The Black Ice Brigade

By Roger Curbelo

The Black Ice Brigade is moved by revenge but mainly is a survival story. The main characters got caught in a cross fired in between powerful being and they have to do their best to stay alive and get the best of every situation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543928495

Book preview

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"W ake up, I heard Captain Barric", whispered Bill, while grabbing his friend’s jacket.

Jacques awoke startled, jumping to his feet, his face marked red by the straw he was sleeping on. They had to clean the stables and feed the beasts.

Why the fuck didn’t you wake me up earlier? Dammit! complained Jacques, dusting his clothes and running for his bucket and shovel. It was your goddamned turn to watch, fat arse. The asshole is going to make us sleep in the hole again.

I’m sorry man, babbled Bill with frustration on his face. I passed out and lost track of time.

The stable doors burst open and sunlight flooded the room, blinding them. They pretended to be busy beside the horses’ stalls.

Alright you slobs, what the hell are you doing? Captain Barric said. Aren’t you finished yet?

Almost done sir, said Bill. This place was a mess. You should have seen it before we started.

Almost done, eh? the Captain asked. It was me who gave you this task, so I know how it was. Don’t take me for a fool. Where is the bottle? I bet my ass you were drinking and fell asleep, am I right?

We don’t know what you’re talking about sir, Jacques replied confused, we were…

Shut the fuck up, idiot! Stop playing dumb! interrupted Barric, pointing at them. It’s always the same shit with you two! No matter what, you always screw things up. It’ll be another night in the hole for you, maybe this time you will learn not to waste my time!

Barric turned on his heels and stomped to the door. But not without finishing this shit first, he said in a mocking tone as he walked out, slamming the door.

The hole again! complained Jacques as he glared at Bill and threw his shovel and bucket to the floor. When are we going to leave this fucking place? I am tired of cleaning shit in the stables. I don’t get it! We’re done with our training already.

True! It’s been a month since we finished and we’re still here, sucking balls. But of course we are, who is going to want a fat guy like me and a lazy guy like you for protection?

Who the fuck are you calling lazy, lard ass? Jacques asked.

Jacques grabbed the bucket again and threw it at Bill, striking him in the leg. Bill’s blood boiled and he chased Jacques like a rabid dog, but Jacques was slippery and fast like a snake. He always found a way to escape by running or climbing anything, in order to avoid a beating. They were good friends, but Bill didn’t have too much patience and Jacques was good at pushing his limits. They always fought like children, but in the end things never got out of proportion. Bill was way too slow to ever catch Jacques.

Many others in the camp were also angry at this situation, but that’s the way things worked in the Brotherhood. Those who complete their training well, get to serve as elite soldiers of the nobles. Those who were problematic, injured or lagged behind, had to do less important tasks. Rumors circulated about what these tasks were, but in the end, only the leaders knew their fates.

Jacques was better known for disobedience than anything else, but it didn’t make him a bad person. He didn’t like the idea of taking orders. He was always distracted or trying to avoid the tasks given to him on a daily basis. It became the norm for him to get in trouble with superiors.

He didn’t look like a child anymore; those days living in the streets of a dirty village were long behind him. The Brotherhood was in charge of creating cold hearted killers, living only for their creed: to live and die for the Brotherhood, serving in the name of the Gods. The small vestiges of humanity remaining in them were in deep wells of conscience.

Jacques didn’t quite fit this mold, he had a wild spirit, which usually got him into trouble. He was good in combat and quick witted, but he lacked discipline and purpose. War wasn’t to his liking even though he wouldn’t mind working for a well-paying noble to get him out of the camp. However, those thoughts had already disappeared from his mind. There was no place for him in those dreams. His superiors scolded him for being a waste of potential and a bad seed. Those words echoed in his head and not only did he believe them, but he liked them and the idea of being a rogue among the sheep.

Moments later, after cleaning the stables, they finally could take a break. Bill didn’t mind cleaning, but Jacques felt embarrassed by swimming in feces every day. He wasn’t a role model soldier, but he didn’t find it fair or at least smart. Why have two trained soldiers doing such meaningless tasks?

I smell like pig shit, growled Jacques, seating on a wooden bucket in the corner. My back is killing me.

Bill almost fainted as soon as he finished, collapsing on the floor. He was sweaty and his heart was beating out of his chest.

I can’t do this anymore, huffed Bill. They are killing us.

Yeah, and it’s not a pretty death, more like a shitty death.

Bill almost choked himself laughing, as he looked at the filth around them. No matter the moment he could always laugh at Jacques’ complaints. It could always make him feel better.

Yeah, have fun, I bet you won’t be laughing later when we are in the hole, sneered Jacques.

The night arrived faster than anticipated and so did their punishment. Despite the place, it was a nice night, full of stars and a cool breeze. The view, through the cell bars, served as a small consolation for all the discomfort. Not everything was bad after all and that’s how Jacques felt about it. At least he didn’t have to listen to idiots yelling, having nightmares in the barracks.

Hey Bill, how many times have we been in here? Jacques asked, while staring at the night sky.

I don’t know, around ten times. It’s hard to say. We were too drunk to remember most of them.

True, Jacques said with a nostalgic laugh. In fact, I don’t think anybody else can beat our number. Do you remember the night when that jerk, Pettis, started walking in his sleep?

Hah! Of course I do! Everybody remembers! laughed Bill, slapping the floor.

Yeah I almost died laughing when it happened. Can you believe it? Walking in your sleep in the middle of the night to take a shit and staying, slumped over, sleeping on the latrine?

Bill interrupted, laughing even harder. This was one of the many stupid stories Jacques used to pass time in moments like this.

Then the other guy with the big nose…what the hell was his name? continued Jacques.

Darren! answered Bill. His name was Darren Brentt.

Oh yeah, until Darren ‘Crow Nose’ Brentt woke up to take a piss and woke Pettis up by pissing right on him!

Fuck! Ole ‘Crow Nose’ almost died of fright. Pettis came flying out of there, with his pants down, trying to strangle him.

All this hasn’t been so bad, right Bill? We’ve made some good memories out of all this shit.

Jacques kept talking for a while until he recognized Bill’s snoring, buzzing from the dark corner. Bill never lasted long in any conversation without falling asleep, it didn’t matter the place. He could even sleep over pointy rocks if the situation presented itself. Jacques envied his clear conscience, especially when he had to sleep in rough places. Jacques thoughts began to wander until his body started to slump against the wall of the cell. He slid into a muddy heap on the floor in a deep sleep.

Good morning ladies! screamed Captain Barric at dawn, as a bucket of water crashed on their faces from above. It’s your lucky day! You’re getting out of here or better yet, we’re getting rid of your lazy asses! Let’s go, we don’t have all day! I want you in the main hall immediately.

What? What happened? Bill mumbled, while wiping away the mud and drool from his cheek.

Let’s go, we have to go to the main hall now.

But why?

Who cares, I bet it is just more horse shit, said Jacques as he pulled himself up from the floor. Shit, that water was cold!

What water? asked Bill, still half asleep.

Ah nothing, it doesn’t matter.

The cell lock popped open and the Captain’s footsteps echoed as he walked away. They scrambled up the narrow steps out of the hole and started to jog towards the hall in the north wing of the camp. Everything was quiet in the morning. There was nobody around in the camp which was unusual and gave them an uneasy feeling.

Dammit! We must be late, nobody’s around, said Jacques as he straightened his belt. Could this be…?

Recruiters! You think it’s them? interrupted Bill.

Who knows.

Yes! yelled Bill with a huge smile on his face. Finally, we are getting out of this stupid place.

Don’t get too excited, you know what happened last time they came. Even the skinny bastard Gideon made it before us.

Yeah. Don’t even remind me, laughed Bill, that idiot didn’t even know which end to grip a sword.

Sure, but at least he was good with words and not a pig without manners, like us. Jacques snickered back.

They crossed the courtyard as fast as they could until they saw the main building of the camp. They ran straight for it, but Jacques stopped a few meters before entering the door.

We have to make a good impression today, Jacques, Bill said, or we are going to rot here cleaning shit.

Jacques nodded and smiled. He thought making a good impression would be impossible for Bill. Half of his face was still covered with dried mud. He didn’t say anything while he used his soiled nose rag from his pocket to scrub away the mud from Bill’s face. They spent part of their lives growing up together in the camp and Jacques felt like an older brother to Bill. Even though Bill was more hefty and taller than him, he had the intelligence of a four-year-old.

The meeting hadn’t yet started when the two men walked in. The soldiers remaining in the camp were already gathered there, standing in formation. The two tiptoed in and stood at the end of the line. Jacques couldn’t hold his laughter, they both looked like scarecrows. Wrinkly and stained uniforms and with the smell of something raised from the grave. Some of the soldiers close to them were leaning away, disgust overtook their faces.

What the hell is going on here? Jacques whispered to the soldier next to him.

You didn’t hear? whispered back the soldier. They gathered us here because they are in need of more men.

More men? But there is almost nobody here. Only troublemakers and injured, answered Jacques, poking the soldier in his sling wrapped arm.

Don’t ask me, I am telling you what I heard.

And who is coming to recruit us this time? Jacques asked again.

They haven’t said, but a group of Clerics arrived this morning carrying weird banners. An old man with white hair is in charge.

Hmmm, it’s the old man again, said Jacques. I have seen him here before, but why is he here recruiting us? We all look like garbage. This is strange.

Who cares, I want to get out of here, answered the soldier as he snapped back to attention.

One of the superiors were getting close so Jacques became silent, he didn’t want to call attention to himself. There was nothing he wanted more than to get out of this camp, so he preferred to be quiet. The horn of the tower sounded and one of the head officers came out and stood in front of the soldiers. He opened a large scroll, with crimson red ends and started bellowing out names.

There were few soldiers left in the camp since the latest cycle of training was over. The Brotherhood would soon start their recruitment again; a crusade looking for orphans or anyone who wanted to join them. Most of the time using the word volunteer was only a matter of formality, so as not to look too aggressive.

The officer called the names of thirty-seven soldiers and asked them to step forward. Jacques and Bill were on the list, they were elated. Right after the selection, the soldiers not chosen somberly left the room.

Congratulations! You all are the chosen ones. You will be completing an important task which I am sure you will succeed with. said Barric with an expressionless face. We expect no less than excellence from those in the Brotherhood.

As Barric continued to talk for a while, Jacques couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What utter nonsense! He thought while stifling his laughter. He knew quite well those formalities were just a facade. They were getting rid of the extra mouths to feed. Yet, he noticed none of the injured soldiers were there, only the troublemakers.

When Barric finished talking, he ordered them to break formation and get ready to leave. They had to pack only the things necessary for their journey.

Jacques sprinted to the barracks to collect his few worthless possessions. His fellow soldiers watched his movements with grave looks, but he didn’t pay attention to them. His thoughts were on the Clerics. It wasn’t the first time that old man appeared searching for new soldiers. No one knew about him or where he came from, but the superiors never questioned any of his demands. The Clerics paid and the Brotherhood provided; it was enough.

Hey, we finally made it, brother! said Bill, jolting Jacques from his train of thought. At last we are getting out of here!

Yes, responded Jacques as he turned around. No more nights in the hole, no more stables to clean and no more asshole Captain Barric.

Shut your mouth, they could hear us! The son of a whore could still ruin our plans.

Yes, I know, responded Jacques, glancing over his shoulder. Don’t take too long. The faster we pack, the faster we leave.

Jacques wasn’t stupid. He knew the meaning behind this recruitment. The fact every year more and more men leave the camp was proof that more men were dying.

Soldiers are not hired to pick roses, thought Jacques, they recruit us to kill other soldiers. The eternal game of war is scary, yet loved by others. A few even learn to feed off of it and become kings along the way. The same story plays over and over again, it’s just told in different way, with different players in the game, but it never truly ends. Only a select few get to taste the fruits of victory in the end. Jacques accepted his fate; he would rather die than be on his knees, forever cleaning stables filled with shit.

Sir, are you sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the day in the camp? whispered Sir Vardum, I am sure it was a long travel.

Yes, it was, answered the Cleric, Ander, but we have lost too much time already. The Order does not wait, my good friend. We are already a day behind our planned journey.

I understand sir. I apologize for the mess; we were not expecting you so soon. Things are not so good this year, as you may have noticed.

Yes, I see, sighed the Cleric, it seems you are short of men this time.

A bad harvest, I’d say, answered Vardum. A bunch of weaklings and troublemakers is what we have for you this time. With all the Lords of the North getting ready for a war, it is hard to find good soldiers. You know this.

I understand, said Ander.

Sir, we are grateful for the contributions the Order provides. We do not want you to think we are giving you the leftover recruits.

It’s all good said Ander, pulling a wax sealed envelope from his tunic. We don’t have any complaints about the Brotherhood. From now on the Order of Vhallen will no longer need your services.

Sir Vardum took the letter and cracked the seal with his knife. He had no idea what was going on, but he felt it couldn’t be good. His face was as pale as paper, knowing what could happen to him after disappointing a client. There was a lot of gold in that contract and he feared losing his title as commander of the camp, or even worse, his life.

Relax old friend, the Cleric said, it is not related to your services. As I said before, everything between the Brotherhood and the Order is in harmony.

Yes sir, but it is unsettling when an important benefactor ends a contract said Vardum.

The door of the room creaked open and a servant entered, holding a tray of cheese and bread, along with a bottle of wine. Vardum stared at the servant and ordered him to leave everything on the table beside the Cleric.

What detail! responded the Cleric as he pulled a golden dagger out of his belt. You must have read my mind, my dear friend."

Thank you, sir, Vardum responded, bowing. It is our duty to know our clients well.

And indeed, you do. answered the Cleric, slicing a piece of cheese.

Listen to me, my dear Vardum, I understand your concern but… He paused to drink a sip of wine. Let’s see, how do I explain this? The reasons why we need the services of the Brotherhood are no longer a problem for the Order. The superiors have decided to end our contract, but we are leaving the doors open, my good friend. Our relations could not be better, in my humble opinion.

Sir Vardum did not want to keep pressing the Cleric and tried to look natural, since he did not have any other option. The words of the Cleric were intriguing and he knew good business never ends this way. The Cleric kept eating, not making eye contact, which made Vardum feel uncomfortable.

Well, sir, it is good to hear your words, said Vardum, camouflaging his worry with a fake smile. I want you to know we will do everything in our power to assist you with anything else you need.

And I have no doubts about it my old friend, answered the Cleric, smiling. How about we start by selecting the best men you have remaining in the camp.

It is already done sir, said the commander. The Brotherhood is always a step ahead of its most important clients. The men are already selected and soon will be ready for your command.

How soon? asked the Cleric.

As soon as you want, my good sir.

The Brotherhood never stops impressing me, my dear friend. So be it. We leave as soon as possible. As I said before, we must make haste this time.

Very good. I’ll go and hasten the preparations for your departure, said the commander. Please excuse me, sir.

Vardum abandoned the room with a bitter expression. He knew the art of deception and the language spoken in important affairs. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. In the moment, he only wanted the issue to end. The presence of the Order in the camp wasn’t to his liking but he had to deal with it. After walking for a while, he entered the courtyard where he saw a couple of injured men gathering leaves.

Hey you! bellowed Vardum. Do you know where Barric is?

When the soldiers realized who was speaking, they stood at attention as best they could. Broken bones didn’t allow for elegant posture. Vardum tried not to laugh at them, keeping his face expressionless. This looks like a damned hospital, he thought. I am glad this Cleric is stupid enough to take all these useless men from the camp.

The captain is in the barracks right now preparing the soldiers, Sir. answered one of the men.

Very well, continue with whatever you are doing, said Vardum, heading to the barracks.

It was a sunny day, but the cool breezes of autumn blew. The camp was quieter than usual. The absence of most of the troops was noticeable and Sir Vardum liked it. It had been too many years of him dealing with soldiers. He could feel the weight of this on his back. Silence and tranquility were becoming his favored friends. Life in the Brotherhood was tough, not only for the body, but also for the mind. As the years passed, his behavior became more dark, withdrawn, and antisocial. It was hard for him to feel empathy. His humanity and compassion had atrophied as he became older and older.

Sir Vardum was slow which was as fast as his body would allow him to go. His right leg was carrying scars that were hard to ignore. It was impossible to escape untouched from the shadows of war. This was what he used to justify the mistakes of his past, but there is always some truth to both sides. Even if one does not make mistakes, the fire of war always finds a way to leave bloody footprints on the souls of men. They devour mankind’s arrogance, as a reminder of how fragile men are. His irregular steps, assisted by a cane, were irrefutable proof of this.

I can’t remember the last time I was here, thought Vardum, as he crept in the barracks. When the odor engulfed him, he no longer regretted his absence from this place.

One of the guards at the entrance was sitting on an old chair, nodding off to sleep. When he heard Vardum approach, he jumped off the chair and scrambled to his feet to stand next to the door.

Where the hell is Captain Barric? asked Vardum.

Inside, sir, stammered the soldier once he realized who he was talking with. It was the first time he had seen the commander in the barracks.

Then go and get him dammit! Tell him the commander is awaiting him. I am not entering this stench filled place to find him.

Of course, sir, answered the soldier as he ran into the barracks.

The commander took a seat on the old chair and waited for the soldier at the entrance, a look of disgust still plastered on his face.

Sir, I am surprised to find you here, said Captain Barric, disrupting the silence as he appeared in the hall.

Why the hell does this place smell so bad? asked Vardum smiling.

It’s how these pigs usually smell sir, answered Barric.

Well, it has been a while since I have been here, responded Vardum.

You’re right, sir. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself too much.

Whatever. Exercise never hurt anybody, answered the commander, standing again, leaning on his cane. Make my day and tell me that the soldiers are ready.

Yes sir. Everything is in order, said the Captain. They will be out in no time. Those Clerics are in a rush this time.

It’s true, but those bastards are always in a rush, answered the commander, as he dusted off his tunic. But, we won’t have to deal with them ever again.

What? What are you trying to say, sir?

I am saying we no longer have a contract with the Order.

Is that good or bad?

Who knows, but the good thing is we won’t have any more headaches before winter when those bastards visit us.

True. I am concerned about gold, sir.

We will see later, answered Vardum. Life is cheap in times of war. There is always a need for good soldiers. It’s true those Clerics pay well, but I’m not worried about it. More clients will come.

Those are the advantages of the Brotherhood, right? Barric answered, cackling. We don’t give a damn who wins or who loses in these stupid wars, as long as they keep paying for good soldiers.

Exactly, said Vardum. Now, let’s not waste any more time and get the men into the main hall. The Clerics are waiting and the sooner we finish with all this, the sooner we can rest.

As you command, sir. You can rest easy; I will have them there in a moment.

Good then I will leave it in your hands. I’m getting the hell out of here; this wretched leg is killing me. I am too damned old for this shit, answered Sir Vardum, walking away.

Jacques didn’t have the time to pack as well as he wanted, so he tossed all his junk into a bag, knotted it, and threw it over his shoulder.

Jacques are you ready? asked Bill as he stood beside him. Hurry up! Let’s get out of here before those idiots change their mind and leave us behind. Why do you need so much stuff anyways? I don’t think you’re going to need half of this shit.

Give me a break, said Jacques. Do you want me to look like a pig with only the clothes on my back?

Whatever, hurry up! Here comes Barric!

Let’s go ladies! yelled Captain Barric from the hall. Ready or not, I want you outside in formation!

The soldiers ran at the sound of Barric’s commanding voice. In no time, they were in formation and marching towards the main hall at the center of the camp. This time the hall was almost deserted, except for Barric organizing the formation. Vardum and the Clerics were standing in the center.

Jacques didn’t like the way the Cleric was looking at them, it somehow reminded him of how he felt while in the camp. It was like no one gave a shit what happened to them, since they were only seen as meat shields at the end of the day. He didn’t have a clue what they had to do yet and he didn’t care because only the Gods could answer such a question. Besides his desire to leave this place, he also couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this. Those Clerics didn’t inspire confidence, but this was normal for the North. Nobody likes Clerics anyways, thought Jacques, shrugging. He laughed with resignation and went with the flow. His suspicions weren’t going to change the course of events laid before him.

The strange Cleric everyone was talking about was none other than Gerald Ander. Jacques had seen him on other occasions and heard he belonged to an Order. The truth was nobody knew much about his past; only he came in the name of the highest of the Order to recruit warriors.

Jacques, together with Bill, were in one of the squads of the formation that were almost ready to leave. While they waited they couldn’t help but give a sweet farewell to all those years of torture and despair. Jacques couldn’t understand his hesitation for exploring the world beyond these walls. Especially knowing how much he desired to leave. His fears did not last. Something inside of him believed that everything would be alright.

Soldiers! said Vardum, from the front of the hall. The Brotherhood greets you and says farewell at the same time. Your time here has come to an end. What happens next in your life depends on all you have learned here. Steel and strength will dictate who lives and who dies. The Order of Vhallen welcomes you to what will be your last home. Serve your new masters well and may the Gods smile on you. As we say in the Brotherhood: If we fall on the road, may death have mercy on us and embrace us fast. As we fall, may our valor never leave us. May we die with honor and may our souls find asylum in the halls of the paragons.

Sir Vardum finished his speech and retired from the hall along with the rest of the officers. Only the Cleric and his men remained in silence at the center of the room. It was the first time Jacques had participated in this ceremony. He peered at Bill out of the corner of his eye, while stifling a smile. He still couldn’t believe all of this was real.

Soldiers! My name is Gerald Ander, said the Cleric, breaking the silence. You belong to the Order of Vhallen now. There’s no time for presentations, winter is coming and we are already late, so we leave tonight. The horses are ready.

As planned, they mounted their horses and departed in the moonlight. Travelling was very grim. No laughter, no conversation, only a caravan silhouetted by the moon moving in shadow. Travelers crossing their path ignored them like they didn’t exist. For the most part, this didn’t bother them. Being outside, breathing fresh air, away from the camp, was all that mattered at the moment.

They traveled for four days, towards the North, bordering the town of Lorset. The craggy mountains rose out of the horizon like white giants and the breeze of autumn cooled the countryside. Farmers were preparing for the winter, loading their wagons with hay, even though people believed winter in the North never truly ends.

They took the road northwest heading towards the kingdom of Kaliran. It was a path formed by old, porous rocks that the locals used to call Dead Rock road, but the destination was not Kaliran. After a day of travelling, they came to a fork in the road and followed a path to the right, entering the mountain forests of the North. The path started to ascend and approached the west side of the mountain. The road was easy to find, but sometimes it would disappear and they would have to wait for daylight.

The road ahead narrowed, forcing them to dismount and guide the horses. The Clerics seemed relaxed, but the rest of the men were seeing these mountains for the first time. No one said anything, but something about this place made them apprehensive. They made the last stop at sunset on the sixth day, at an old watchtower attached to the slope of the mountain. The horses needed to rest after their hurried travel. Jacques took this opportunity to also take a break. He sat inside the tower while some of the others tried to build a fire with the dried foliage.

Where the hell is this Cleric taking us? whispered Bill, sitting beside Jacques.

Who knows, said Jacques, shivering in the cold and rubbing his hands. We are moving north, but it’s hard to say.

North? asked Bill as he wrapped himself in a blanket. That explains this damned cold. It’s not even winter yet!

We are high up the mountain. I heard in the mountains it is colder the higher you go. My ass is numb.

Bill laughed as he crawled closer to the fire.

Hey Jacques, cleaning shit wasn’t bad compared to this cold. Do you think everything is going to be alright with the Clerics?

You ask too many questions. But no, I don’t like this either.

Of course not. Who wants to be in an old tower freezing to death?

True, but I wasn’t talking about that.

Then what? asked Bill.

There was something strange about the forest.

I didn’t see anything.

You never see anything anyways, said Jacques. But I felt like we were being watched, like we were being followed.

You’re tired, answered Bill.

It could be, but the Clerics were acting strange too. Some of them were glancing into the forest while keeping their hands on their swords.

I didn’t know Clerics carried swords, said Bill. I thought we were here to protect them.

I don’t think that those two, behind the old one, are Clerics.

It doesn’t matter who they are, said Bill. Why do you worry?

I don’t know, answered Jacques sighing. It was strange, but you are right, who cares. Let’s sleep.

Well said, responded Bill, as he lay down and covered himself with the blanket like a cocoon.

For the first time in several days, Jacques could close his eyes and rest. The fire and his fur blanket were enough to help him sleep, huddled in the corner on the cold stone floor of the tower. The wind was whistling, like a thousand arrows piercing the sky, but he didn’t mind. His aching back, combined with his fatigue inhibited any possible distraction. His restless sleep was short but it made him feel better. It was something he had needed for a long time.

They resumed their march the next morning, walking the edges of the mountains further North. Always leading the caravan was the Cleric, Ander, followed by the two strange men. They appeared stoic, with a soldier’s posture upon their horses. These two men seemed robust but Ander was very skinny with long white hair. He was only heard when directing the way.

It was at dawn of the seventh day when they entered a valley resting on the outskirts of the craggy mountains. The snow-covered peaks guarded the pass making the air humid and cold. The scene was unsettling, only dry cold lands. Spindly vines were embracing old trees on both sides of the road and a silence, akin to a graveyard, filled the air. The path descended among the curves of the valley. As they got closer to the shade of the mountain, they noticed a gigantic fortress of grey stone. It was here that the Cleric ended their march.

Alright, we’ve arrived, said the old man dismounting his horse. We have to continue on foot.

The other Clerics left the group after tying the horses together, one after another. Their silhouettes started to fade away from whence they came and nobody saw them again.

Once we cross the bridge, we will be in dangerous land. Your training is over now, so only your stupidity will only kill you, stated Ander.

While the Cleric continued talking, Jacques noticed piles of rocks beside the road. They were tombstones scattered among the bushes and foliage. "Whatever happened here we may encounter it soon, he thought. How the hell could so many men die? What were they fighting?"

Other questions filled his head. "What can a group of thirty-seven simple soldiers do against whatever it was that killed all of these men?" thought Jacques, feeling uneasy as his fears escalated. He had seen many deaths in the camp. He was a warrior, but still he couldn’t shake a deepening fear that had plagued him like a bad omen.

No one knew the mystery surrounding this place and the Cleric wasn’t giving them any answers. The uneasiness filtered throughout the group. Everyone was on guard, hands on their swords, as they approached the castle. Once they were beside it, they realized the true size of the fortress. Jacques had never seen such a huge and fortified building. It looked completely impenetrable, yet once close enough, they could see many embrasures. There was also a hanging bridge leading over a moat and up to the front door. Before the bridge, there was a path veering to the left of the fortress, towards the stables. Although abandoned, it seemed an acceptable place to leave the horses. "Why did those men take away the horses when they could have stayed here?" thought Jacques.

It is time to tell you what we are doing here, said Ander, finally breaking the silence. We have lost contact with the guardians of the valley for quite some time and the supreme Adepts fear the worst. I know I can count on brave men and masters of combat but I must warn you: This is real life, not training

What are we fighting? interrupted a soldier named Marko. Riddens, Brigands, or mercenaries?

Ander didn’t like the interruption but the truth was he couldn’t answer the question.

I don’t have information, responded the Cleric. We need to find survivors and that’s it. We don’t know what happened in there.

It didn’t appear to be a difficult task after all, but the Cleric seemed worried. More worried than he wanted to appear. While crossing the bridge, he gave up his lead and took a position in the rear. Neither Jacques nor Bill knew what all the drama was about, but they kept following orders. It was true, it wasn’t a pretty place but anything was better than the stables at the camp.

What do you think of this? whispered Bill.

I don’t know, responded Jacques. An old castle, looking for people, it seems easy.

This place is scary.

Horse shit scares me more. Stop being a chicken, laughed Jacques.

Bill couldn’t help laughing with him while the Cleric was giving orders to move forward on the bridge. Two by two they started crossing, until the whole group was on the other side. They all stood in a small clearing in front of the main door. Except for the Cleric, all the soldier’s jaws dropped as they took in the size of the castle. The doors were immense and sturdy, made out of pure metal and rock with no locks. Only a shield shaped emblem of a crescent moon covering a scepter, split into the rays of the sun, was carved into it.

The Cleric unbuttoned the top of his tunic and removed a medallion from around his neck. He inserted it into a hole in the center of the doors and they began to open. The sound of grinding metal pierced everyone’s ears. They entered the main hall of the castle and the doors closed behind them. All vestiges of light disappeared. The day became night and the shadows became their overbearing companions. Only a few rays of light trickled through the embrasures of the wall but it wasn’t enough to guide their way. Some torches were lit but the darkness was so consuming that the light didn’t penetrate very far ahead. They were just happy to be able to see where they were stepping.

Jacques couldn’t stop questioning himself how such a big place could have no windows. He was also disgusted with the look and smell of the floors and walls. There were no signs of life as they kept moving forward along the hall. As the space widened, they split into squads to cover more area. The castle felt bigger than it looked from outside and all the rooms and galleries were similar. There were narrow corridors connecting rooms and it seemed this was all that there was. It was dusty and smelly, but nothing seemed out of place. It appeared as if the inhabitants were still there, although they weren’t now.

We need to secure this place, said Ander, stopping the march and pulling a map out of his tunic. Let’s make two groups. We need to focus on two specific rooms, the emergency vault and the basement. We have to get there as soon as possible. The larger group will go to the basement.

The Cleric made a random selection of the soldiers who would be going to the basement. The smaller group was to remain beside him.

Hey, you, what’s your name? he asked one of the soldiers.

Verno, sir, Darius Verno, answered the soldier with a bow.

Very well, Darius, you are in charge of the group.

OK, answered the soldier with hesitation.

You are in charge of taking these men to the basement. Come close, the way is not hard to find as long as your keep in mind what I am going to tell you.

Very well, sir, answered Darius, approaching him.

From our position here, you have to turn left and go straight through three rooms. In the third room, take the door on the left and follow the path again through three more rooms. In the final room, take the door to the right and you will find a spiral staircase leading to the basement. Pay attention, because it can be confusing in the darkness. Once you reach the prison cells, this is as far as you are going to go. Seal all the doors entering the prison and then come back, sealing all the doors along the way.

The soldier looked at him, confused, since he didn’t understand the purpose of his mission. He thought they were there to fight something, not to close doors. But even if it didn’t make any sense, he agreed.

Three rooms to the left, three more to the left, find the stairs to the basement in the sixth room and descend. Close all the doors, repeated Darius in a low voice, verifying the plan to follow.

Correct! One more thing, be careful down there and don’t make too much noise.

Sir, may I ask a question? What the hell are we hiding from? This place looks like a damned cemetery.

It doesn’t matter. It’s only a precaution, answered the Cleric. If you see anyone down there who isn’t one of us, kill them! Once you’re done, come back to this room, we will be waiting for you."

Hold on a second, interrupted Marko. I thought we were looking for survivors. What do you mean kill anyone we find?

We find the survivors, responded Ander, and they close the doors. You are not in charge here, so stop asking questions.

Marko backed off, biting his tongue. He would follow the orders even though everyone had the same question in mind.

Very well, you heard it boys, said Darius, preparing to take the left passageway.

Despite how unclear the orders were, the soldiers obeyed well enough. Twenty-two men left for the basement and the other fifteen, led by the Cleric, went to the security vault. This vault is the last emergency refuge, used only in extreme situations. If anyone was still alive in the castle, they would be there.

The orders seemed simple but what unsettled Jacques was he didn’t know what happened in this place. He knew the word survivor implied something bad occurred here. The soldiers followed Ander through the dark corridors without questioning anything.

The groups separated in a large room situated in the primary corridor. Jacques didn’t feel comfortable following the Cleric when he didn’t know enough. He was a cautious man and he didn’t trust anyone. He preferred not to work with so much secrecy, but he resigned to do it since no one else said anything. He was a simple soldier after all, a small cog inside the machine and he knew he couldn’t change it.

There was frustration in his heart, but at the same time, relief since the Cleric was guiding the way. This damned place is confusing, he thought, every room looks the same. He tried to memorize the way, but after a while, he gave up. Trying to figure out the place was a waste of time. The distance they moved wasn’t so far, but they made frequent turns and the darkness was disorienting.

After a while, walking though those corridors, they arrived at what seemed to be the entrance to the vault. It was a large corridor bordered by two immense hand-carved columns. They entered a corridor leading to a stairway, flanked by two female sphinxes made out of red rock. The stairway descended to a lower level.

The stairway was wide at first, but it spiraled and became so narrow and slippery only one man could pass at a time. At the bottom of the staircase, they found what they were searching for: the emergency vault. Everything was quiet enough, only a dirty door covered in spider webs.

Be careful, said the Cleric, waving his torch towards the door.

What happened, sir? asked the soldier beside him.

It’s too quiet, this worries me. If there was somebody here, we would hear them already.

They could be hiding, answered Bill, raising his torch.

There is only one way to know, said Ander, as he removed a metal key from around his neck.

Ander used his medallion one more time by placing it in the recess of the door and it opened. A dense cloud of dust puffed out of the room and everyone cover their eyes. They entered as the dust cleared and saw that it was not a pretty place. Jacques’ first thought was it was a very bad idea to enter. The claustrophobic room was, without a doubt, the last place he wanted to get ambushed. We are soldiers, he thought, this is not how we do things.

Some would say ignorance is a blessing, but none of the soldiers felt this way. To secure an area, they need to explore first, but their casual entry to this room didn’t make any sense. They were entering the mouth of the beast like sheep, all together, without a plan, and it wasn’t wise. A couple of men placed themselves at the entrance while the rest of the men continued inside the vault.

Jacques thoughts were bouncing between disappointment and relief because the room was empty. When they close the doors in the basement, this mission is over, he thought.

The place was much smaller than it seemed. No more than fifty feet long with some internal divisions forming little rooms. It was a room with thick, humid walls and a horrid smell. It was a place where people ran to hide when things got ugly, or perhaps to die.

At first sight, it seemed there was nothing to do there, but it could also mean that none survived. Jacques preferred to be positive and thought it was time to get out of the stinky hole. Closed off spaces were not his favorite and it made him feel like a rat in the sewers.

The Cleric seemed worried, but he wasn’t sharing his thoughts. He was pacing back and forth across the vault with his hands shoved in his pockets. Ander paused in mid-stride and gave the order to return to the meeting point. This was great news in the eyes of the men.

The silence was oppressive in this place, but Jacques didn’t mind it since everyone was preparing to leave the vault. The Cleric took the lead once more to the main corridor, where they were to meet the other group being led by Darius. The only sound was the crunching of their feet and the labored breathing of the Cleric as they walked. This is not a place for an old man, thought Jacques. He couldn’t understand Ander’s motivation, but he was quick to disregard his thoughts. He wasn’t there to question the mission, only to follow orders.

Now what, sir? Marko asked again. What do we do if we don’t find anybody?

First, lower your fucking voice! We are not in a tavern, hissed Ander. Stop asking questions and keep going.

Marko glared at the Cleric and chuckled through gritted teeth as he shook his head. With a shrug, he trudged onward.

Keep quiet! You were not trained to talk, said the Cleric as he resumed his march.

They walked through the corridors following the Cleric. Uncertainty stalked their hearts but there was no other option but to continue.

Shhhhhh! Silence! said the Cleric. Did you hear that?

Jacques didn’t understand what the Cleric was talking about. As usual he wasn’t paying attention. As he started listening, he could hear the far-off sound of a horn echoing through the walls. The other men, good! Time to leave, he thought, relieved.

Let’s go! Hurry up, said the Cleric. Goddammit! I told them not to call any attention to themselves! What is all the commotion about?

They were jogging towards the meeting place when the low horn sounded again. As they closed in, Jacques could hear with more clarity other sounds, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. His throat went dry as he heard screams and screeches from the distance.

Hurry! yelled Ander, abandoning his need for silence. They blew right past the meeting place towards the noise.

The Cleric took a new path as he followed the screams through hallowed halls and used his map to find his way in the dark. When they found the stairs to the basement, Ander blocked the way.

Halt! barked Ander with his arms outstretched. Nobody goes down the stairs!

But something is going on, we need to help them! said Jacques, confused.

The Cleric ignored this question, as the others peered into the darkness at the border of the stairs. The noises were getting closer; they could see the glow of torches ascending the stairs below. Some of the men panicked and began to yell at to those who were climbing the stairs.

Dammit! Stop making noise! I can’t even think! yelled the Cleric. They already know we are here.

The men completely ignored the Cleric and kept calling to their friends. From below, they could hear the men scream responses they could not decipher. Marko tried to pass beside the Cleric, but he pulled a gold dagger and brandished it in his face.

I said not to move! Wait here!

What? Are you fucking out of your mind? protested Marko. They are in trouble, we need to do something!

What the hell is going on? asked Bill, pointing at the Cleric.

I don’t know.

What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? You brought us here, you son of a bitch. Marko yelled at the Cleric.

Shut your mouth for a fucking moment! repeated the Cleric. If they make it up the stairs, we can help them but if you go down there, you will end up dead!

Marko pressed close to the Cleric and glanced past his shoulder down the staircase. He saw something snatching one soldier away, disappearing into the dark. His strangled screams echoed along the walls. The anger that Marko had stifled before burst forth and he grabbed the Cleric’s tunic and thrust him against the wall.

What is happening down there? What the hell is attacking them?

Let go of me immediately! Ander screamed. No one goes down there!

Fuck you, you piece of shit. My brother is down there, screamed one of the soldiers from the back. I am not going to let him die like a dog because a fucking Cleric says so.

The soldier withdrew his sword and with no hesitation he ran down the stairs. The light of his torch illuminated the stairs and a piercing, inhuman shriek was heard very close to the top of the stairs. The arm he was caring the torch with was sliced off with a clean cut, as his body disappeared into the shadows. The severed arm, still clutching the torch, left all the witnesses speechless. The soldier reappeared, as he was fighting something hidden in the shadows, until his body went over the railing and fell into the middle of the spiraling staircase. His body bounced back and forth several times and made a loud thud as it reached the bottom.

Everyone do what I say, goddammit! screamed the Cleric this time. Let’s get out of here, it’s too late!

What do you mean it’s too late? said Jacques. They are almost here, we can’t leave them!

Don’t be foolish! They are not going to make it.

Freeing himself from Marko’s grasp, Ander started running and so did most of the men without question. Jacques thought it wasn’t right, but he ran with them into the next room.

Close the door! yelled the Cleric. It will give us some time.

We can’t lock out our comrades! What the hell is wrong with you? And what the fuck is down there attacking our men? asked Bill.

No more questions, yelled Ander. I don’t know what the fuck it is! And I don’t want to find out!

I thought it wasn’t the first time you were here, interrupted Marko. You knew about all this!

Don’t be ridiculous! This is the first time I am seeing this too, Ander responded. I wouldn’t risk my life if I knew about this.

We are all going to die! mumbled Bill. It’s this asshole’s fault.

"Nobody is going to die