The Darkness That Comes Before Epub Download

[Grethe Presnar]

TheHolca Champion, Thurror Eryelk, the newest champion in the Sranc Pits , survives on the streets of Carythusal by spreading blood. In one of his unfortunate bloody encounters he meets an Schoolman of the Scarlet Spires, and this encounter could prove fatal.

The story is set in Carythusal, some three hundred years before the events described in The Darkness That Comes Before. It follows Thurror Eryelk, a roving Holca barbarian and current champion of the Sranc Pits, who becomes embroiled in a Scarlet Spires coup. Breaking the main plotline are flashbacks to Eryelk's early life, glimpses of his ongoing attempts to cling to his savage heritage as his world gradually expands.

After a recent triumph in the Sranc Pits, Eryelk has been declared Sacred Hewer and invited to visit Blessed Queen Sumilaom in her pleasure garden. Seemingly disinterested in the prospect, he spends his time drinking in the Worm, the slum district of Carythusal. When approached by a Scarlet Spires sorcerer called Nagamezer in the Third Sun tavern, Eryelk refuses to deal with the man and gives in to the violent urges of his Incarnal, entering a trance-like state of frenzy that typically seizes him during battle. He kills the sorcerer, but somehow ends up paralyzed by poison. It becomes obvious that Eryelk does not fully recall the events that occur while his Incarnal manifests - he thinks of his raging self as a separate entity.

Delivered into the custody of the Scarlet Spires, Eryelk is interrogated by Grandmaster Shinurta, a sorcerer feared and loathed in Carythusal for his experiments with the Daimos. The old man needles the barbarian, claiming that he is a traitor to the Holca people, a man of intellect born to a warrior race. Once the captive Eryelk is provoked to frenzy, his Incarnal manifesting and demanding to be killed, Shinurta resorts to Sorcery and the barbarian loses consciousness once more.

Awakening in an alleyway and plagued by infernal dreams, Eryelk wonders in vain why the Scarlet Spires would release him after he'd slain one of their own. He is seized by a sudden desire in perusing the invitation of Queen Sumiloam and moves toward the Palaparrais royal complex where she resides. Before being granted access, he is questioned by the Shrial Emissary Ȗsulares who suspects him being a pawn of the Scarlet Spires. Ultimately, since the Collegian priest does not discern a sorcerous Mark on the barbarian, he is allowed through.

In the palatial pleasure gardens, Eryelk meets Queen Sumiloam and her young stepson, Crown-Prince Horziah, both of whom appear interested in his gladiator's prowess. The prince has even had Eryelk's sword, Vampire, delivered to the gardens for this encounter. Ultimately Horziah is sent away, leaving his stepmother alone in the company of Eryelk and several slaves. As the queen seduces the barbarian, he notices that one of the slaves is her husband in disguise, King Sarothesser IX, a willing cuckold. As he copulates with Queen Sumiloam, Eryelk gradually gives in to his Incarnal once more, this time experiencing what look like memories of Grandmaster Shinurta, screaming at someone to, "Ravish him! Sack his flesh! Blast him with shame! Rape! Rape!"

Eryelk awakens on the riverbank as Carythusal burns, clothed in filth and blood, sword in hand. Realizing that he has been become a knife in another's hand, he departs High Ainon, intent on returning to wreak his vengeance when the time is right.

Many of these stories are ones I first encountered in what I consider to be the definitive book on the subject: The Oxford Book of English Ghost Stories edited by Michael Cox and R.A. Gilbert.Their introduction is wonderful to read and really provides a fantastic overview of the rich literary history of the ghost story.As they note in the opening paragraph of their introduction:

It concerns an unnamed protagonist spending the night in a haunted room of Lorraine Castle.The first part of the (relatively short) story focuses on the protagonist meeting the caretakers and helps to set the mood of the location and introduce us to the pragmatic narrator.

I heard the sound of a stick and a shambling step on the flags in the passage outside, and the door creaked on its hinges as a second old man entered, more bent, more wrinkled, more aged even than the first. He supported himself by a single crutch, his eyes were covered by a shade,and his lower lip, half averted, hung pale and pink from his decaying yellow teeth. He made straight for an armchair on the opposite side of the table, sat down clumsily, and began to cough. The man with the withered arm gave this newcomer a short glance of positive dislike; the old woman took no notice of his arrival, but remained with her eyes fixed steadily on the fire.

The man with the shade became aware of my presence for the first time, and threw his head back for a moment and sideways, to see me. I caught a momentary glimpse of his eyes, small and bright and inflamed.Then he began to cough and splutter again.

The old man with the cough jerked his head back so suddenly that it startled me, and shot another glance of his red eyes at me from under the shade; but no one answered me. I waited a minute, glancing from one to the other.

The effect was scarcely what I expected, for the moonlight coming in by the great window on the grand staircase picked out everything in vivid black shadow or silvery illumination. Everything was in its place; the house might have been deserted on the yesterday instead of eighteen months ago. There were candles in the sockets of the sconces, and whatever dust had gathered on the carpets or upon the polished flooring was distributed so evenly as to be invisible in the moonlight. I was about to advance, and stopped abruptly. A bronze group stood upon the landing, hidden from me by the corner of the wall, but its shadow fell with marvellous distinctness upon the white panelling and gave me the impression of some one crouching to waylay me. I stood rigid for half a minute perhaps. Then, with my hand in the pocket that held my revolver, I advanced, only to discover a Ganymede and Eagle glistening in the moonlight. That incident for a time restored my nerve, and a porcelain Chinaman on a buhl table, whose head rocked silently as I passed him, scarcely startled me.

The door to the red room and the steps up to it were in a shadowy corner. I moved my candle from side to side, in order to see clearly the nature of the recess in which I stood before opening the door. Here it was, thought I, that my predecessor was found, and the memory of that story gave me a sudden twinge of apprehension. I glanced over my shoulder at the Ganymede in the moonlight, and opened the door of the red room rather hastily, with my face half-turned to the pallid silence of the landing.

I walked back, relit one, and as I did so, I saw the candle in the right sconce of one of the mirrors wink and go right out, and almost immediately its companion followed it. There was no mistake about it. The flame vanished, as if the wicks had been suddenly nipped between a finger and thumb, leaving the wick neither glowing nor smoking, but black. While I stood gaping, the candle at the foot of the bed went out, and the shadows seemed to take another step towards me.

As I stood undecided, an invisible hand seemed to sweep out the two candles on the table. With a cry of terror, I dashed at the alcove, then into the corner, and then into the window, relighting three, as two more vanished by the fireplace; then, perceiving a better way, I dropped the matches on the iron-bound deedbox in the corner, and caught up the bedroom candlestick. With this I avoided the delay of striking matches; but for all that the steady process of extinction went on, and the shadows I feared and fought against returned, and crept in upon me, first a step gained on this side of me and then on that. It was like a ragged storm-cloud sweeping out the stars. Now and then one returned for a minute, and was lost again. I was now almost frantic with the horror of the coming darkness, and my self-possession deserted me. I leaped panting and dishevelled from candle to candle in a vain struggle against that remorseless advance.

I bruised myself on the thigh against the table, I sent a chair headlong, I stumbled and fell and whisked the cloth from the table in my fall. My candle rolled away from me, and I snatched another as I rose. Abruptly this was blown out, as I swung it off the table, by the wind of my sudden movement, and immediately the two remaining candles followed. But there was light still in the room, a red light that staved off the shadows from me. The fire! Of course I could still thrust my candle between the bars and relight it!

But I had forgotten the exact position of the door, and struck myself heavily against the corner of the bed. I staggered back, turned, and was either struck or struck myself against some other bulky furniture. I have a vague memory of battering myself thus, to and fro in the darkness, of a cramped struggle, and of my own wild crying as I darted to and fro, of a heavy blow at last upon my forehead, a horrible sensation of falling that lasted an age, of my last frantic effort to keep my footing, and then I remember no more.

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MOTHER died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can't be sure. The telegram from theHome says: YOUR MOTHER PASSED AWAY. FUNERAL TOMORROW. DEEPSYMPATHY. Which leaves the matter doubtful; it could have been yesterday.

The Home for Aged Persons is at Marengo, some fifty miles from Algiers. Withthe two o'clock bus I should get there well before nightfall. Then I can spend thenight there, keeping the usual vigil beside the body, and be back here by tomorrowevening. I have fixed up with my employer for two days' leave; obviously, under thecircumstances, he couldn't refuse. Still, I had an idea he looked annoyed, and I said,without thinking: "Sorry, sir, but it's not my fault, you know."

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