The Lord

The air filled with a rotten, sulphureous odor. Aaeron was halfway across the bridge and covering his nose with his shirt.

“Youuuu…”

The wretched voice cackled from the darkness.

“You have no power here…”

The guard jolted up at the voice. His armor was chattering softly, exposing the panic shared amongst the remaining four. Across the chasm was an ancient, decrepit throne framed by two massive, dimly-lit braziers. Sat before them on that throne was Lord Emrys.

His head was adorned with a twinkling diadem.

His body was draped in illustrious silks and furs.

His eyes were bloodshot and pale.

His hair was wiry and knotted

His skin was a sickly yellow.

“Hey.” Aled whispered to the guard, “Hey!”

The guard did not respond verbally but turned his head toward Aled. The squire was still buried in Aled’s chest, soaking his shirt with her tears.

“How long has the Lord been missing?”

“…Prince Calder ascended the throne at the start of harvest,” The guard responded, less quietly than Aled would have preferred. It appeared, however, that Lord Emrys either could not hear them or did not care to react.

“I had a pig that looked just like that. The yellow skin I mean.” Aled continued, “It’d been not a couple weeks from the color appearing to the poor thing dying. We had the butcher cut ‘er open, just because, and the liver must’ve been doubled over in size…”

The guard remained silent.

“Well?” Aled asked, “How is he still alive?”

Before the Aled could even wait for an answer, the disembodied voice spoke up from within Lord Emrys’ body.

“You.” 

 Emrys pointed a gnarled finger to Aaeron, the closest of the four to the body, 

“What do you desire?”

“M-me…?” Aaeron asked.

“I am your lord.” Emrys replied, “That which you desire, I am obliged to provide.”

The guard stepped forward toward Aaeron, raising his shield.

“Do not believe that traitor, Aaeron of Casne.” He shouted while positioning himself between the body and Aaeron, “Whatever promises it makes cannot be honored.”

Aaeron’s face, previously a mix of fear and exhaustion, went blank upon hearing Emrys’ words.

“You’ll…” He started, “You’ll grant anything?”

“Only that which you desire most.”

“Aaeron,” The guard pleaded, “Do not consort with him.”

A tense silence permeated the space before Aaeron finally spoke up.

“W-well,” Aaeron replied to Emrys, “I wish I didn’t have to see all of this!”

“…Very well…” 

The voice from within Lord Emrys’ body responded. The acrid smell abruptly disappeared from the air. Aaeron had been slowly walking across the bridge,

“W-wha?” Aaeron said softly, “Aled? Sir Guard?”

“Aaeron,” The guard responded, “Come back

Aaeron held his hands out in a grasping motion before eventually grabbing onto the rope. Aaerons slid his feet across the bridge planks as he slowly returned to the guard, but to Aled it seemed like he was following the guards voice more than moving out of fear.

“I… I can’t stop crying…?”

“What are you doing, Aaeron?” The guard asked, putting his torch over the edge, “Get back ove-“

Aaeron’s face became illuminated in the light of the torch. What Aaeron believed were tears was blood flowing freely from his empty eye sockets. He continued shuffling on the bridge, trying to follow the guard’s voice to return to solid ground. A quarter of the length away from the guard, a board beneath Aaeron split in half, dropping him into the chasm below with a mournful wail. Aled and the Guard could do no more than watch as Aaero’s body quickly disappeared into the abyss below them.

“Did you know!” Aled yelled at the guard, “Did you know he was still down here?”

The guard did not respond to Aled as they both listened to Aaeron’s screams as he fell deeper into the chasm.

“Lord Emrys,” The guard bellowed, “You ask what it is we desire? I desire retribution!”

The guard marched toward the bridge, a murderous intent palpable behind the all-encompassing helmet.

Emrys let out a strained laugh from atop his throne.

“…So be it.”

The flames within the brazier – previously a dull orange – roared to life, casting a harsh yellow glow across the bridge, the edges reaching for the guard’s feet. The guard dropped his torch and stumbled away from the chasm as the light enveloped him.

“Nyaaargh!”

The guard fell to one knee, clutching his helmet. The flame from the torch shifted in color to the same sickly yellow and engulfed the armor in an otherworldly aura. Smoke began to pour out from every opening. The air sizzled, mixing with the cacophonous screams of the guard as the metal began to glow and warp from an invisible flame. Lord Emrys cackled as the guard’s contorted body slumped to the ground. The braziers returned to their dull orange glow in a near instant, blinding Aled in darkness.

“Eh heh heh heh!”

Emrys continued laughing, a death rattle echoing throughout the chamber.

Once his vision acclimated, he gazed back at where he last saw the guard only to find a pile of ash and scrapped metal. The squire, having slipped loose from Aled’s grip upon hearing the guard scream, was motionless. Aled placed himself between her and the guard as he made his way to the chasm, covering his face with his shirt to avoid breathing in the ashen smoke.

“She has sufferrrrred enough at your hands…”

Emrys groaned as he pointed to the squire. Aled turned back to the young girl. She was no longer crying. She stared blankly ahead at the smoldering remains of the guard’s suit of armor, shuffling her feet as she inched closer to the bridge.

“Return to the surfaccccce, child.”

Despite the commanding tone emanating from Emrys, the girl did not heed him.

“F-f-f…” A soft voice whispered, “Fa-f… Fath-“

“S-Squire!” Aled shouted at the girl. His voice cracked as the reality of the guard and squire’s true status dawned onto him, but her head shot up on command. “Return to the castle, a rockfall has trapped everyone!”

The girl’s eyes, glassy and swollen, cleared as she stared at Aled. Nodding softly, she pulled out the map and stumbled back into the catacombs. The soft pitter-patter of the footsteps disappeared shortly after.

“Will she be safe?” Aled asked Emrys.

The body croaked out its response.

“Thaaaat, is beyond both of ussss.”

Aled was now alone, staring across the bridge toward Lord Emrys.

“Now… What do you desire?”

Emrys' request was notably flat, Aled was dumbfounded. If Lord Emrys truly was alive, then how did he survive an entire season underground? There have been no signs of any living creatures. In fact, the overall condition of the catacombs was inherently hostile to the idea of survival.

“What do I desire?” Aled asked defiantly, “I just want to go home! I want to forget any of this ever happened!”

Lord Emrys’ body laid silent on the throne, eyes glazed over.

“Well!” Aled yelled, “Can you do that, oh Lord Emrys?”

“Kneel before your lord.”

The strained death rattles from the body of Emrys had disappeared, replaced with an air of authority befitting a lord. The jewels beset within the diadem danced with the flickering flames to either side.

“Kneel before me,” He continued, “And I shall grant that which you desire.”

Every emotion that stirred within Aled – fear, anxiety, anger, sadness, exhaustion – all of them were completely washed away. All that remained was dread.

His body began to move on its own, making for the bridge. Each step was stiff and calculated as the wooden boards creaked beneath him. Within moments he found himself directly in front of the pallid body. An odor not unlike brimstone or animal waste filled his nostrils, but he dared not cover his face so close to the entity that wore Lord Emrys’ body.

“Now,” Emrys said, “Kneel.”

Aled knelt before the throne, his head instinctively dropping to stare at the ground. He could hear Emyrs’ arms crackling above him as they jolted to relative life. Aled willed his neck to move, but his body was frozen stiff. The crackling grew closer and Aled felt the stick-thin fingers gently upon his head as soft lights casted down to the ground, before falling into a deep and sudden slumber.

_________________________________________

Aled awoke under a large oak tree to the sound, and feeling, of water dripping down from above. Sunlight peaked through the branches, and as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the light rain shower that trapped him in his field had finally finished. Staring out from the hill he rested upon, he noticed a surprisingly large retinue of horses and persons gathered on the road next to his farmstead. The walk to his farmstead took a fair number of minutes, at which time his daughter informed him a priest from the capital was asking for him.

“Aled of Llewyn, yes?” The clergyman asked.

“Aye, that’s me.” Aled responded.

“I am Praetor Ellis,” The man said, “I am here under orders by Prince Calder to conduct a royal audit. As right hand of the Prince, I extend his appreciation for your cooperation. Please guide me your grain store so we may begin.”