A hidden threat
Chapter one
This is my first ever fanfic, so be kind! Review, and send feedback/improvements.
The wind whipped across the mountains sending a howling screech through the valley, the dark night emptying the atmosphere of any kindness. Ordinarily this place was the epitome of serenity and tranquillity, the only risk travelling through here would be getting sun burned, but that night the rain hammered down on the already saturated ground meaning this once beautiful and peaceful place now resembled a turbulent ocean. Forks of lightning threw themselves at the sky, while thunder provided a suitable melody to accompany the appearance of the terrain. The valley was surrounded on all sides by chalk grey mountains stretching up as far as the eye could see-given the limited visibility at this point in time that wasn't very far-they casted imposing shadows over the whole place making it seem as if the darkness stretched on forever. Now if anyone happened to be watching this scene they may have noticed a lone figure striding across the heathland, cloak billowing behind him, making his way towards an opening in the rock. At the base of the tallest mountain was concealed a cave, out of which radiated the golden glow of a fire. Now many would believe that the temporary residents were simply travellers, taking refuge from the storm, but to think this would be wrong. Because the intentions of those inside, and of the man about to enter, the cavern were far from innocent.
The mysterious man marched into the cave and, despite the torrent of wind and rain outside, he was completely dry with not a hair out of place. He trooped through the cave and took his place in front the large fire that was now blazing. He enjoyed dramatic entrances, having all eyes on him.
The audience consisted of about six spectators all wearing hoods, anxious not to reveal their identity. These people, like most villains, were paranoid, believing that Uther was watching their every move, sending spies in, ready to spring a trap at any moment. The man who had just entered didn't waste time exchanging pleasantries, he was far too important to respect these people. He began by stretching both hands out in front of him, palms to the floor, and closing his eyes. He began chanting. The words belonged to no real language, yet they seemed to send a shiver down the spine of all observers. And all the while the eyes belonging to the man carrying out the rite seemed to glow an ethereal gold shade beneath his lids. He opened his eyes, his breath caught in his chest and he staggered backwards. This was dark and powerful magic, something he was not used to facing on a regular basis. But he refused to give in. He closed his eyes again and continued with the ritual. He uttered one last incantation and opened his eyes. Nothing happened. Seconds passed and still nothing happened. The crowd of men began to grow angry and impatient swarming the sorcerer, demanding answers as to the reason for the delay. Suddenly the floor beneath their feet split with an almighty crack, a huge fissure appeared in the ground, about a hundred foot deep and wide enough to push the men to the edge of the cavern. It revealed what seemed to be a lake. But the water it contained was not blue or clear, but crimson. And it was moving of its own volition. Churning and writhing, it seemed to groan with age old power, a force to be reckoned with. The men backed away from the sorcerer, suddenly remembering their place, he had once more gained their respect.
"At last, brothers, after generations of tireless work and countless sacrifices our time has come!" His booming voice echoed round the space. "Throughout the ages man has looked for a way to preserve life indefinitely, now we are on the brink of achieving this vision. I tell you this night, we are one step closer to becoming immortal!
a cheer erupted from the small crowd, bouncing and echoing off the stone walls.
"All that is required is one more element, before we rise to become gods," he paused, revelling in the fact that they were hanging on his every word, "A sacrifice. An offering to appease the memory of the high priestesses of old. The soul of an enemy. And what greater enemy do we have than the Pendragons? Uther persecutes those with magical abilities, forcing us to go into hiding, to deny what we are. He killed so many of our kind, we lived in fear. Well I tell you no more! From now on he will be in fear of us! He will see that those with magic are finally taking back control!" The crowd cheered in response.
And then one of the men shouted out "Yes. Uther will make a worthy sacrifice!"
"Oh no," the sorcerer replied, "I shan't make it that easy for him. I want to break Uther, in penance for his sins. I want to see him cry and scream, I want to see him lose his mind. So I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to tear away the one thing he cares about, the one thing that means anything to him, the one thing that he would die for. I'm going to annihilate Arthur Pendragon."
The sorcerers piercing green eyes suddenly filled with a hate so strong it could repel demons.
"Run Arthur," he stated to no one in particular, "I'm coming for you."
…
That night the Prince slept fitfully, unable to free himself of the nightmare of a vengeful sorcerer and the image of his own death. He saw himself lying in the council chambers, gasping for breath, pain rushing through every sinew in his body, with a stranger standing over him, killing him, ripping the life force from his body. It may have been a dream, but it felt real. So real that for the first time in years Arthur felt fear, pure unadulterated terror, he felt his head spin and his stomach turn as adrenaline coursed through his body in an attempt to counteract the emotion. And all the while one image plagued Arthur's thoughts. The sorcerer, his killer, standing over him, his piercing green eyes boring into the prince's very soul. Ripping him apart. As he stared into the sorcerer's eyes, he felt his grip on life loosening, his eyes closing and his mind drifting away. In his last moments he was sure he had heard a woman shout his name, but he couldn't be sure, he lost focus as death tightened his grasp on the young prince and he succumbed to the darkness.
Thankfully it was a nightmare that was forgotten by the morning, so didn't trouble Arthur after that night.