A Thrust into Darkness

A Thrust into Darkness By Janrae Frank

I will never forget the day that my uncle the king, killed my father, and began the destruction of my family – a destruction that I was ultimately forced to participate in. Even though Waejonan's rule is complete and merciless, I still sometimes hear the whispers, when I pass, of the opening words to the most common version of events, or see the first line painted on the walls by secret hands:

"Once there were three brothers, Brandrahoon the vampire, Isranon called Dawnhand, and Waejonan the Accursed, first of sa'necari."

They call me Nighthand to differentiate me from my father, since we were both named Isranon. We were night and day, Nighthand and Dawnhand.

It started with a loud pounding on the front door, like many mailed fists. I slept in the attic, since I was the only boy, and my three sisters shared a bedroom on the second floor where my parents had theirs. The sounded reverberated through the house. I pulled my pants on and shoved my feet into my boots before running downstairs.

My mother, Melisandra, was already gathering my sisters into the hallway. There we stood for a moment, the five of us. Soreeh the eldest, who was sixteen, Risha, barely ten years old; and twelve-year-old Bethie.

I will never forget my mother's eyes, wide and frightened. My sisters seemed simply frozen with fear.

The knocking became a peremptory pounding and a voice demanded, "Open in the name of the King."

I shoved my mother toward the back of the house. "Get out the back and run. Keep to the shadows."

Then my father emerged into the hallway and ran for the stairs to the front room.

"Where's your staff?" I shouted, knowing that my father could not hope to fight off his brother with his staff of power.

"Gone," he snarled. "Stolen. Go! Go!" He rushed down the stairs to fight them, hoping to give us all time to escape.

I herded my mother and sisters to the back stairs and we started for the door. Before we could reach it, the door crashed open and soldiers poured in with nets. My stomach churned as I realized that the nets were made of spellcord to block our powers. They threw the nets over us and dragged out into the backyard. They spellcorded each of us, even little Risha, and sealed the cords with runes so that we could not free ourselves. Then they removed the nets and brought us around to the front, prodding us with blows if we failed to move fast enough.

A scream sounded from the front just before we reached it and bile rose to my throat as I wondered if they had killed my father. They lined us up. I did not have to wait long to find out. They brought my father spellcorded from the house and tossed him on his face in the dirt. Three soldiers beat and kicked him.

I looked on tight-faced, standing beside my terrified mother and sisters

Then my Uncle Waejonan, King of Waejontor, stepped into the light of the torches held by his soldiers. My father's younger brother was beautiful, perfectly androgynous, and delicate of features, pale-skinned and black-haired, with the pointed ears of our sylvan kind. At his gesture, my father was lifted to his feet.

"You are arrested upon a charge of treason, my brother," Waejonan smirked. "You have an assignation with a greased pole tomorrow so I can watch you dance. Your daughters are condemned to the military brothels."

"Bastard!" Isranon cursed and a soldier hit him hard enough to drive him to his knees.

My oldest sister, Soreeh, sixteen, went still as stone hearing this. Little Risha clutched at our mother's skirts. Bethie patted Risha's shoulder with tears in her eyes. I was a year older than Bethie, and nearly of age.

"I will however keep your fine wife for myself – in my harem. And your son." Waejonan sauntered over to the my sisters and, one by one, he ripped their bodices open while his soldiers held them. "By morning, Isranon, even the little one will have had a soldier between her legs. You can think about that while you wait to die."

My father stilled, gathering his courage, and said, with a sudden stoic calm, "Be brave, all of you."

I will father. I will.

Then the soldiers dragged him away. We were not allowed to say farewell to each other. They placed my sisters in one cart, my mother on a horse, and myself in another cart. They took us all away.

I spend the night sleeping on dank straw in one of my uncle's dungeons. My father had never plotted against my uncle. His crime had been that he refused to join my uncle's sa'necari cult and participate in their terrible rites of rape and murder. He had wanted to escape from this place and find a better way to live.

GODWAR CENTRAL

A Thrust into Darkness