Deathbringer

PROLOGUE

Everyone in Rumelt had heard of the Deathbringer.

It was the story parents told their kids to keep them obedient: "The Deathbringer will GET you!" It was their bogeyman, their goblin, whatever you wanted to call it. The Deathbringer was somebody that everybody knew.

Beatrix was no exception. She'd grown up with tales of the Deathbringer. She'd heard kids use his name as a sort of curse in the playground at school. As a child, she'd taken all the precautions along with every other child in the town to ensure that the Deathbringer couldn't get to her: the circle of salt around her bed as she slept, the cross she'd worn everywhere, the talismans and protection spells that everyone swore would repel the Deathbringer at all costs.

But, every year, somebody still got taken. Every year, another family would weep for the child that had been stolen away to certain death.

Now that she was 15, Beatrix knew better. She stopped wasting her time on silly superstitions like that. She stopped listening to the people at school, the ones that tried to sell her their homemade protection charms that were really just some beads on some string. She wasn't even entirely sure she believed in the Deathbringer anyway. Nobody had ever seen him. If anything, there was just some creepy old man, stealing kids because he was mad. It was more likely than some mythical lord of death who stole kids from some random, isolated town, just to kill them anyway.

Even if he did exist (Which he didn't) Beatrix wasn't likely to get taken. The Deathbringer always stole away the strongest, healthiest children of Rumelt, and Beatrix was neither. Since she was a child, she'd been weaker than the other children, prone to passing out and being sick. Her mother had tried to build her up , make her healthier and stronger, with beef broth and other disgusting soups that nobody actually liked. But nothing had worked. Beatrix ha remained as weak and sickly as ever, and it was a struggle to get her mother to let her even attend school each day. She wasn't bad enough that she was confined to bed (at least not always), but it definitely eliminated her chances of being taken away by the Deathbringer.

Or so she thought.

Until the day when it all changed. The day she'd drawn that fateful card that would change her life forever. That was the day she'd learnt to always assume the worst.

Always expect the unexpected.

                                                                                                          ***

James would always be able to remember the day he'd been taken.

Loath as he was to admit it, he'd been terrified. The stymphalian birds had swooped down on him as he was out walking one evening. He could remember the ragged shapes that had appeared in the sky above him, blocking out the abundant moonlight. The moon was always bright. The sudden darkness was the first thing that told him something was off.

He'd looked up at the stymphs, and frozen in fear. When people had described the stymphs, they'd said they were birds. Violent birds, but birds nonetheless. Looking at the ragged dark shapes in the sky, 'bird' was the last word he would have used to describe them. A bird was a sweet, feathery creature that sang in the trees of the forest near his home. These were more like pterodactyls, large and cold and predatory. Their beaks were at least two feet long, and their eyes, when they angled their heads towards him, gleamed red, with a cruelty glimmering in the depths.

There was nowhere he could have run. The creatures were twice as big as him, and three times as fast. They would have caught up with him in no time. And then there would be no telling what they would have done.

He'd known why they were there. Everybody knew what it meant if a stymph turned up. Everybody knew it was stymphs the Deathbringer used to kidnap people. That didn't make it any easier. James had grown up with people telling him what an honour it would be to be taken by the Deathbringer. Nothing made parents more proud than to have their kid taken. It meant they had raised the strong child. It meant they had raised their child right.

But, as the birds swooped down to catch him in their claws, he couldn't quite remember why anyone would have considered this an honour. All he knew was the sharp claws digging into his shoulders, and the wind rushing in his face, dragging tears from his eyes. Time warped and changed into an undefinable eternity. He wasn't sure if he screamed; all he could hear was his racing heartbeat. He definitely screamed as the stymph holding swooped down into the cave and shot down the drop like a bullet. Darkness rushed around them, so when the first building rushed up into his face he froze, caught by surprise. The stymph ducked around the building and continued onward, unfazed. This continued for a couple more miles, until Jamie felt himself pass through a sort of coldness and the cavern flushed with light.

Only they were no longer in the cavern. Somehow, between here and there, the cavern had opened up into a titanic city, sprawling for tens of hundreds of miles. He twisted round in the stymph's grip, expecting to see some sort of barrier or something, dividing the dark and the light. But there was just more city, sprawling endlessly. There was no way out.

The stymph stopped suddenly, so suddenly that Jamie was nearly thrown forwards. He craned his head up and saw why: rising up in front of them, so suddenly it almost seemed out of place, was a castle. It seemed like something out of a story book, all sharply tall turrets and spires, with a moat separating it from the city. The double doors to what could only be the entrance chamber were flung wide open. The stymph swooped in and dropped him on the cold, marble floor. He sprang to his feet, his hand drifting towards his belt for his knife. It was an ornate, silver thing, marked with fey runes. There was a chuckle.

"There's no need to arm yourself Boy."

Jamie looked up sharply. In front of him stood a man. He was no more than three feet tall, but he managed to exert an air of importance. His voice, at odds with his short stature, was deep and authoritive. He smiled unpleasantly.

"Are you the Deathbringer?" Jamie demanded.

The man's smile grew wider. "I am not the Deathbringer. The lord is far too important to deal with trivial matters such as this. My name is Galdur." He gestured for Jamie to kneel.

Jamie didn't kneel.

"Kneel!" The man—Galdur—commanded sharply. Jamie felt something force him to his knees. "You are James Edmundson." He stated. Jamie stayed silent. "You are a child of the faerie village Uisce. You have been chosen by the Deathbringer due to your strength and skill." He continued. "You have a choice." He paused, possibly to be dramatic.

Jamie waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally he spoke up. "Are you going to tell me what my choice is, or am I supposed to guess?"

Galdur looked displeased. "Your choice," He said. "Is between life and death. You may choose to die, or to join the Deathbringer's army, therefore choosing to live."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we will choose for you, and you can be sure that the result will be death." He smiled unpleasantly again. He descended the steps towards Jamie. "Choose." He commanded.

Jamie took a breath. This was what he'd been raised for. He hadn't been raised with love, not ever in his life. The possibility of being taken by the Deathbringer had taken that from him. That reason alone made him want to refuse, to spite the parents that never cared for him.

He raised his chin. "I accept a place in the army."