The Tale of Rex

"Raise the bridge," he whispered.

Then, as if he heard these words, Rex looked forward and began running toward the castle’s opening.

"God in Heaven- raise the drawbridge!" cried King Elric.

A series of shouts echoed from the king’s position down throughout the castle to the man in charge of raising and lowering the bridge. This man, however, had wanted a look of his own and was standing in the middle of the opening, frozen, as he watched, in terror, the figure racing towards him.

"Daneault! Raise the drawbridge or it’s the end of us all!"

Daneault was able to turn at the shout, breaking the spell and rushing to the levers. He began jerking two long poles, one in each hand, back and forth, to the sound of click-clack, click-clack. Slowly the bridge began to rise.

"Faster, you peasant- he’s almost on us!"

Daneault began to tremble and sweat. He knew exactly how many pulls it took to close the bridge tight.

As he counted off the last few clicks, he swore he could still hear the sorcerer’s footsteps, just outside.

"My God, I’ve done it, I’ve-."

His thanks were cut off by an explosion of splinters and shafts. The massive bridge was rent asunder and the sorcerer was standing in the large hole that was made, looking amidst the awe-struck noblemen and peasants gathered within.

Above, King Elric heard screams for a full twenty minutes. There were no battle cries, no shouts- only screams. After twenty minutes, a deafening silence filled the castle halls. Elric could hear his own heart beating. As he looked at the faces of his advisors, he wondered if his could be more pale and stricken.

"Your highness," whispered an advisor, "your hair- it is all white!"

And the king sided a glance as the nobleman pulled a long strand into his view.

"If only my heart felt as pure," came the reply, and King Elric made a motion toward the stairs.

"Sire, you’re not going down?"

King Elric put a kindly hand on his servant's shoulder.

"It will do no good to remain here. But perhaps I can save your lives, at least."

Elric slowly made his way down the staircase. A mist was slowly rising up along the wall, embracing Elric as he descended. At the bottom, a bony wrist extended straight up into the air. As he followed along its stiffness, down past the joint of the elbow, to the shoulder, he could see two wide round eyes returning his glance, the dead man’s mouth gaping in horror.

Corpses were strewn along the hall. Some were pieces, charred. Others were whole skeletons with tattered remains of cloth their only tomb.

Elric dropped his head into his hands in sorrow. It was a battlefield of dead men. But Elric, being a warrior of old, could easily see that it was no fight. No weapon had left its owner, no spear thrown, no arrow shot. Every body looked as if its attacker had come from a different direction and without warning.

It was all too incredulous, even for his firm and stable mind. In mere minutes every member of his court was dead in a battle that seemed should last months.

"Elric."

The voice stunned him like freezing cold and sent an icy chill down his back. King Elric turned to see Rex standing before him with the nephew of the King of Sylphan. Elric was shaken to see the sad state of the young boy. He had been beaten and tortured.

"I thought to come face to face, that I could at least save the lives of my closest advisors, in the tower."

"They are already dead," came the emotionless reply.

Elric lifted a shaky hand and touched his fingers to his wrinkled brow. A tear slid down his cheek.

Then, kneeling, Elric said:

"Then it is my time, too. Indeed you are a powerful sorcerer. The name of Rex will forever haunt these halls."

"I will not kill you. These are your halls, your men, your servants. This is your kingdom- now rule over it."

And before Elric could look up in terror, Rex and the young lad were gone, never to be seen again.

And forevermore could Elric's cries and sobs be found etched into the walls of his castle, along with the death of hundreds of men