The Books of the Shadows

Left alone in his chambers, his Monk appeared behind him. -My King. It was a mistake... -I did not ask you. The King was facing the window with no bars, that was only an opening in the wall towards the outside. He was a rough man, handsome like an out-of-this-world being with long, black hair and deep-blue eyes. He was looking at the waterfall that would just caress the walls of the mountains surrounding the Shiran fortress. The fortress itself was carved into the mountain's stone, with precision and was surrounded on three sides by the waters of the canyon which was uniting Shiran with the city of Lothar, the main fortress of the shadow kingdom. Knock! knock! "My king!" He heard in the door. Amazed by the audacity of someone interrupting the course of his thoughts, he returned to the door that opens. Two guards were looking at him with a wondering figure and asking almost awkwardly: -My king, you have been summoned... to the Council Room...? -I am WHAT? the King raised an eyebrow. What Peasants are summoning ME... in MY OWN War Council??? The guards were already backing to make room for him to pass, and they were trembling, looking down at their feet. -The Council, My Lord? One of them asked with such a low voice that he thought he was going to faint. -I have not yet appointed the Council yet... the King said thoughtfully. -It is appointed by default, Your Highness, he heard the Monk's voice coming from behind him. The king can not remain without the War Council. I have been trying to tell you that they would be appointed by default if you do not appoint them immediately after you... execute them. The Monk searched for his words carefully, in order to not challenge the King. -Hmmmm.... so who will be part of my new Council now then? The King left the room in a hurry, with his Monk following behind him. They reached the big hall and within seconds they entered the War Council room where they were already expected. What??? Who even dared think of such a thing? The room was full of people. Young...people... The King checked on their faces, they were facing down, humble. Stupid youth... unexperienced... and they summoned Him?? The new council must have already consisted of the first sons of the ministers he had just executed the day before. Who would have thought they all had sons... He raised his right eyebrow in wonder, looking at them all, sitting in front of him and trembling in terror already. What now... let's see what these little men would want to demand from their King. The new Council's order... was already on his worktable. He took it in his hands, unfolding the paper roll in order to read it. He began to read the paper in his hand and by the second his face turned dark and his eyes already looked as if flames were burning in his look. -What is this?? he raised the piece of the paper in his hand looking at them all. Who wrote it??? The new members of the Council were mostly boys not more than 20 years old. They were already in their shiny armor, just like warriors, but he doubted the war had touched them. Someone had the audacity to inform him of the decision of the old assembly, which he did not even know!! And this decision was apparently, an old custom that invokes the law of equity?? That means, that when the King commits a crime of honor, he should answer by paying with his honor too. So in this case, the King was demanded to marry into one of the Houses he had wronged, and bring new heirs into the bloodline that he took heirs from! The King snorted and yelled furiously: -Who wrote this??? and his words rumbled like thunders in the silence of the hall. The young ministers were still standing in front of him, all on their knees, with their heads bowed and their eyes on the ground. -It is the old low, Your Highness, the Monk said, kneeling behind him and also bowing his head. He was the only one who dared to answer, but even he was hoping to keep his head on his shoulders after the intervention. His King was furious upon realizing the mistake he made the day before. But he would do it again if he had to. -When a man makes a mistake, man also should accept the consequences of their actions, the Monk continued with a soft voice, trying not to challenge his King any further. It is the ancient Law of Balance, My Lord. Not much luck. He could hear the King trying to control his breath and his jaws clenching, and his silence at this point was not such a good sign, the Monk was thinking. -It is not My Law!!! Sheng Zung raised his voice. And that was not a good sign either. He would never lose his temper, as his soldiers would not see him often in this condition. They all thought he had such admirable control over his feelings. Yesterday he proved them all wrong. Even the Monk did really ask himself if he would be spared after all these many years of good service, or if he would be executed with the new war council. -It is the Old Low, My Lord, he said in a low voice bowing his head even more, until his forehead touched the ground in front of his king. The new members of the war council learned from him and did the same. That somehow soothed the king's rage a little bit, looking at them as they seemed so obedient. But he knew they were still waiting for an answer from him. And that would be as forcing his hand into forging an alliance he did not need nor want. If he would choose from a house, his choice would empower that house, giving it the power of the kingmakers. The claim to the throne. And that throne was his. No one deserves it more than him as no one would fight for it as he did. To choose a woman now would make him what.. a sacrificial groom??? How was that possible? The mighty king is to be punished by his own council?? they would pay for it!! All of them! -I will think about your request, the king said. He let the paper fall from his hand, looking at them all with contempt. He got up from his throne and left the room. Monk, with me! -My king... The Monk followed him to the stables. He knew the king is sometimes calming his worse demons by riding wild into the night but tonight was so dark and he did seem calmer... or was he wrong? The king grabbed his horse by the mane and threw himself on the horse, riding off into the night without any other word. The Monk hated that. Even if he was a really good rider, there was no one riding like this king. The king’s horse was from a wild royal bloodline horse, a man-killer demon, warhorse. It would only listen to the dark demons and the king was riding these formidable horses faster than any other. The Monk could not ride such a wild horse, he did not have the powers of the demons. His blood was not powerful enough to dominate such an exemplar. His own, ordinary horse, could not keep up with the king's and soon he was only trying not to lose direction. The king was already far away, and he was lucky they would ride in an open field already, where he could still do his duty to protect his king if anyone dared to try anything. He hated his job sometimes. His King was a very difficult man, who did not like to be crossed and always had to be right in everything. He was the most powerful man he ever knew, and he knew a lot of men. The Monk remembered how proud he was the day he was chosen to be his guard, and he did not care much about what happened to the other before him. It was their job anyway to be the shield in front of the King's life. The Monk remembered checking on him, in awe... his impressive stature could not be hidden by the shiny steel of his armor. His armor was all black and embraced his body like a second skin. When people were speaking about the shadow demons as being beautiful, they were not wrong. He was a beautiful man, unbelievably handsome, as only a fairy tale descendant could be. He was tall, like no human. His eyes were cold steel gray, and his gaze was so penetrating that it seemed to put people under a spell when he was looking at them. His hair was black, but kept falling out in the back, long like all the shadows kept it. He was unreal. And the Monk was so proud when the king pointed towards him, saying that he wanted him. That was the highest honor a monk could have. Scary... but the highest, anyway. He had trained a lot for this job, all his life actually; he was one of the bests in riding, in sword skills, in archery, but his King was better. His King would be able to defend himself alone and his Saruman-the demon from within, he was enjoying war and was craving for human blood. That was pretty disturbing as it is known that no one can control their demon, and if Sheng Zung's was thirsty for blood, it would ask more and more, and where would that lead in the end? To the rise of the Dark King... and who would that be? May the Gods have mercy on them all if at any point Sheng Zung would turn to rise as the Dark King!! People thought of him right now as being the devil impersonated, what would he be like on the Dark side? no, no, the Monk shakes his head, he would not think such thoughts. Better hurry his horse to try to catch up the King. Rain started. Little, delicate, and cold drops began to flow from the clouds. Soon, he could no longer see in front of him because of the rain, and lightning was already furrowing the sky. The power of nature unfolding before him in this way would frighten him when he was out riding with his King to calm him down. That was the only way to stop the killing. He would just take a wild ride in the night and if would be raining, the better. The demon inside him would take his rage and spread it in the might of nature unfolded. Soon he saw the dark still figure in front of him. Waiting. His head up, letting the drops touch his face. Seemed calmer already, but then he saw the dark shadow slowly rising before him with eyes burning in flames, sniffing the air while leaning towards him. Slowly… slowly, just like a cobra ready to attack the prey. Damn, he would never get used to this sight... never. -Do not move, Monk, he heard the king. " I would not dream about it", the monk told himself dumbfounded.