All Roads Lead to Ammin by Christopher Percy

Author:Christopher Percy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Short Story, dark fantasy, supernatural, first chapter, bonus
Publisher: Christopher Percy
Published: 2018-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

FIALSUN

EIGHT MONTHS BEFORE DARK OF WINTER...

King Fialsun moved at the front of the entourage. Elegant rich robe fanning out at the bottom, well made boots clinking on the marble floor hammering a beat that mirrored the pace of his heart. His son was dead, murdered, smothered by an unknown assailant.

Eight others eagerly hurried behind him, desperate to be seen at such a distraught time of their King’s reign. One was the head of palace security. Normally such a confident man, not so now. The rest were made up of torch wielding guards and members of the royal court, stragglers who had been close when the grim news had broken so late at night.

“Who found him?” Fialsun asked of those rushing to keep up. The King was a portly man, but fear and anger leant impetus to his normally pensive gait. Pella, his pet monkey, sat obediently upon his left shoulder. It too was not insensitive to the drama. She would draw no attention to herself. No pratfalls or begging for fruit today. The anxiety in the air was palpable.

“Talla, the guard outside his highnesses room. He sensed, my liege, he sensed an ominous presence and investigated. Poor soul, if you forgive the reference, the poor soul was face down on his cot, breath smothered from him.”

Fialsun wrenched a firebrand from a guard, held it aloft the opposite side Pella sat, and started up the spiral staircase. “I’ve had this tower built for one end and one end alone, Sturtle. Can you guess why that is?” an angry rhetorical question aimed at the head of palace security.

“Of course your majesty. I placed guards throughout the gardens and all around the tower—”

“Imbecile. All four of my sons have been killed systematically, one after the other, all within a year. I build a tower, one way in, same out again, and still some cunt sneaks in and kills my last heir apparent. My son!”

At the top of the stairs was a solitary door, thick, iron studded for extra protection. Talla was still at his post, undoubtedly apprehensive about his own future. He would not look towards his King, it was more than court etiquette at play, this was borne from fear of repercussion.

Fialsun gestured for the door to be opened and a nervous Talla obliged.

“Right, you can all fuck off now. And execute Talla.” Fialsun slammed the door shut. The very moment he was alone grief took his knees from under him and he buckled, reaching out for the door to catch himself. “I can’t bury another one,” he said amid a sharp intake of breath. He forced himself off of the door but screwed his eyes tight shut, loathe to see the truth, his dead boy. “I can’t bury another one. My bones should know the crypt before my sons do. What curse eradicates my legacy?”

Despair quickly turned to rage and he punched the door and oblivious to the pain he did it again then again and only when his knuckles split open did he finally stop.

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