The Imperium Chronicles:
Astor
Introduction:
September, 1911 A.D.
The Scottish Highlands
The air was thin carrying a damp, metallic scent with a whistling wind, cold, against the granite and creating a precarious threshold of dangerous drops wet by the falling rain, blow a vast loch, vast and black, waiting like a polished obsidian mirror.
Violet, a woman in her mid-twenties framed by wild, dark blonde hair, found herself pressed against the very precipice of a death drop.
A ragged, desperate scramble had taken her to this point – feet skidding on the slippery surface; she had previously been exploring a map she had found detailing an ancient site hidden deep in the highlands, a structure that would have simply stood out, the description alone marking its unusualness – it was this curiosity that had driven her exploration; a scholar’s folly.
Now though, she had found herself fleeing; she had encountered men claiming loyalties to some kind of Cult; a Minotaur’s Cult and the Imperium, she did not grasp it, nor did she want too.
As her right boot slid over the edge, she felt the sharp pain scrape along the inside of her leg as her world tilted violently, a sickening lurch; a wave of vertigo washing over her as she clawed in desperation at the sharp, brittle ledges, her fingers tearing as she just barely caught herself, had she not, she would certainly have plummeted, her heart hammering against her ribs, it felt like a trapped bird trying to escape.
Two larger figures; heavy-set men emerged from the passage she had just come from, heavy woollen cloaks, faces hidden by drawn hoods, spotting her struggling form, they approached, moving with a predatory slowness that spoke of utter confidence.
“There you are” the first growled; breath stinking of something stale, a raspy voice as he peered down at her dangling form “You seek our secrets; you’ll find yourself becoming part of the stone once we’re done with you, you shall serve the Cult purpose”
As he knelt down, his seized her wrist, his grip was brutally strong, and he simply hauled her light frame upwards, back from the void, indifferent to any pain he caused as Violet cried out, a small choking sound of utter terror
As soon as her feet were planted steadily on the edge of the ledge; the second Cultist stepped forwards, pulling free a revolver from beneath his worn cloak; its metal frame caught in the weak afternoon light “You’ll be coming with us quietly back to the temple; you’ll not be seeking light again, so take you final chances to admire it before the end”
Violet’s breath hitched, nearly stepping back but feeling the edge and snapping her head back – she could see the dark waters below, a deadly choice laying before her – Death by jumping, or Death by the hands of men that were very openly telling her their intent.
Chapter 1:
Astor rode the jagged and unforgiving terrain with the ease of a man navigating a flat meadow; the sturdy horse, a long-time reliable companion, reliable in its footing, ascended the switchbacks of dangerous mountainside – Astor himself, he was simply an anomaly.
Wearing thick, protective modernised, durable canvas pants, the bottoms wrapped, and tucked into sturdy ankle-length boots, while his upper body was layered in a dark, multi-layered robe, with an experimental armour covering his chest, and a recently added addition of a red sash around his waist, a deep hood that was currently pushed back, an unusual choice which revealed a man of mix-heritage between East and West, a strange harmony of sharpness and symmetry.
Strapped across his back was a Japanese Short-Sword; a Kodachi, at the back of his waist, a heavy Kukri Knife that had been fastened within an easy reach should he require it, while just beneath that same Kukri, was a holstered Mauser C96 Pistol, a trusted tool when required, not purely for fighting, but when he has ever needed to signal.
Astor showed little interest in the dramatic beauty of the highlands; his focus was on the piece of paper currently held between his thumb and fingers, a letter that had been provided from his allies amongst the ‘Observers’ or – The ‘Eyes’ that had learnt of an artefact that could potentially draw the eye of the Imperium, potentially drawing the Cult of the Minotaur and its leader, though, he was aware that George Smythe was currently travelling, and was at present, not really that much of a concern.
As he deciphered the cryptic coordinates marked within faded ink, a sound suddenly drew his attention; a sound that was thin, yet sharp, rippling through the clear air above him.
A scream – not of pain, but of pure, panicking fear, with the echoing sounds of guttural heavy commanding voices of men.
His dark eyes sharpened as he scanned the ridge above him, his reading now at an end with the shift in his priority; folding the paper twice, he slipped it into an interior pocket “Hya!” he commanded, kicking his heels into the animals side, urging it forwards from a steady walk, into a sharp, ground-eating canter.
The horse, accustomed to the sudden demands of its rider surged forwards, hoover hammering against scattering pebbles as they navigated the increasingly steep slope.
While on the ledge; Violet had begun being dragged away, her arm held tightly behind her back, a painful twist that forced her arm upwards behind her back causing her initial scream, while the man with the revolver gestured towards the passage “Let me go!” she pleaded, her voice cracking with raw desperation “I…I was only exploring…, I am just a student of history, nothing more…, please!”
The Cultist behind her chuckled with a dry, unpleasant sound “History is an end for you love; you’ll serve a greater purpose, join the rest of the dead amongst the pile”
It was then a sound could be heard; the sound of a single horse, moving far to fast for the terrain, turning, they shifted their gaze, tearing up the slope towards them, the sound was not distant, it was nearly upon them.
As the first Cultist released Violet, his hand reaching inside of his cloak as he moved forwards to investigate the sound of thundering hooves – then…, the world exploded in a flash of motion.
Astor burst over the rise, his Kodachi already drawn, the dark steel blade reflecting the sky, he did not slow the horse, instead, he simply swung the sword in a smooth, devastating arch, the blade met the first Cultist – a wet, light thud followed by a second heavy thud soon followed.
Astor barely even registered the fall of the first Cultist already manoeuvring the charge, slamming the horse’s broad body into the second Cultist; sending them reeling from the force of the impact.
The second Cultist crashed down, a painful roar escaping his throat as the revolver went skittering off the ledge and far from use; lost to the void below.
Astor, now pulling on the reigns; the horse rearing slightly, came to a stop as the animal planted its feet – Astor moved gracefully as he dropped down from the horse, moving with an unnerving motion as he advanced on the downed Cultist who was now scrambling frantically, clutching at a broken arm.
There was no negotiation, no command to surrender; Astor simply struck, he raised his Kodachi high and brought it down in a single swift movement; it had been less of a fight, and more of a simple clearing, a clean-up for him.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the whistling wind over the ledge, the rain unnoticed as crimson was washed away and down the granite ledge, the steel of his blade dripping before he sun it deftly, purposely wiping the blade across his sleeve before returning it to the scabbard on his back, his breathing even, he looked like a man that had merely stopped to adjust his boots.
Chapter 2:
Violet stared, she was horrified yet profoundly relieved – the transition from certain death to utter safety so fast was jarring, dizzying almost; chaotic violence that she could barely keep track of, the man before her, the man that saved her was unlike anyone she had ever seen before, his features made it clear his couldn’t be a local, and he was far too well armed to be a tourist, his movements graceful, fluid – almost like a flowing river and he looked completely out of time, as if a man from a different century altogether due to his robed garments.
Finally turning to face her, his movements slow and deliberate, reminding his own body that immediate danger has passed, he quickly assessed Violet with a single, quick glance, registering the terror in her wide green eyes and faint red marks where she had been gripped “Are you alright?” he queried; his voice soft, accented with a strange cadence
Violet was certain he sounded almost like a Yorkshireman, an accent that blended with a Japanese dialect; she could only manage a quick, shaky head nod, gesturing vaguely towards the two downed bodies then towards the very ledge she had nearly fallen.
Astor gave a slow nod, accepting her gesture as confirmation, moving with a clinical detachment, he checked the two bodies, searching for anything that might be of use in his search before straightening back up “Return to your home” he commanded, his gaze drifting away “The path is dangerous; go”
Without anything to pique his interest further, he walked back to his horse, vaulting back up onto it, and ready to set off once more – it was then Violet found her voice, a sudden rush of understanding that overrode her fear “Stop” she called out, scrambling forwards before he could set off, ignoring the revulsion of the dead as she hopped over the first body
Astor paused, his hand tightening on the reigns, turning his head to look at her “The temple” Violet said, her voice firmer, she gestured towards the narrow cleft that she would have been taken “Are you searching for the temple, the one with the artefact?”
Astor’s dark gaze narrowed infinitesimally, the mention of the artefact confirming her value in a way nothing else could have; he quickly came to the conclusion she was no lost hiker, but that she clearly knew than she appeared, he gave a slow, measured nod.
“I know the way” Violet said quickly sensing an opportunity “They were taking me there; I can take you as thanks”
Considering her proposal, he could just force the way himself, but, the terrain was remote, and the Cultists presence had just been confirmed and it meant there was an immediate danger; a guide, even a terrified one, who possessed knowledge would be a strategic advantage – while he was lethal, she knew that, he quiet clearly possessed a quiet, contained patience.
Extending his hand towards her; a sly smirk momentarily appearing “Up” he said simply
Violet couldn’t help but smile as she gripped his forearm with both hands, Astor pulling her up behind him with one strong movement, she settled precariously close, gripping the edge of his thick robe as he urged the horse forwards towards the narrowed, bloodied cleft in the rock; a gateway to the ancient path.
As the horse began to move, once again in an upward ascent, Violet attempted to break the tense silence – a silence filled with the echoes of violence and the proximity of a dangerous man.
“You…Saved my life back there; thank you” she began, carefully pressing on, curiosity winning over propriety “I am Violet; what is your name?”
Astor did not turn, his gaze remained fixed on the treacherous path ahead “Astor” was his simply response
As they progressed forwards, the path becoming tighter between blocks of moss-covered granite, twisting upwards towards the passages they needed to reach the ancient temple, Violet providing the directions, Violet still made various attempt to get him to speak, finding the silence to be rather oppressive “Where are you from Astor.., your accent sounds…, unusual”
Each time Astor spoke though, it was simple, single answers.
“Yorkshire”
“Are you a collector, or maybe an Archaeologist; those men back there were serious about acquiring the artefact up there”
“Neither”
Despite his single-word responses, it only seemed to make her more determined to communicate, trying to find some semblance of humanity in her terrifying rescuer – it certainly wasn’t lost on Astor.
Finally, Astor offered a comment, his voice a low rumble “You are certainly persistent Violet”
“Well…, you are determinedly silent” she countered, gripping the robe a little tighter as they navigated a particularly steep incline, an action that drew Astor left arm to reach backwards, gripping the middle of her jacket to provide an additional steadiness.
There was a shadow of something akin to amusement that had crossed his face, though he kept his expression severe “Why do you want to know; I am a dangerous man, you just watched me take the lives of two men without hesitation, perhaps I am taking you into danger, perhaps I could be a lunatic, a madman with illusions in my mind”
Violet went momentarily quiet, considering his severe assessment “No” she said “Your actions were intended to rescue; you did not have to engage them, you could have simply ridden past and left me to whatever fate they had intended for me”
“True” Astor gave a slow nod
Chapter 3:
Silence once again settled as they continued to ride forwards; finally though, they reached their destination – reaching a sprawling, sheltered plateau high above the loch, where a massive and impossibly straight lintel stone marked the entrance of a natural cavern; the passage to the temple.
Astor dismounted first, his boots hitting the ground with a soft crunch before he turned and extended his arms, bracing his hands around Violet’s small waist as her hands reach to his shoulders and he eased her down softly “We’ll be walking from this point” he said, his hands lingering only for the fraction of a second longer than necessary as she steadied herself
Astor turned his head, scanning the cavern entrance, searching for signs of traps or fresh movement “If this is where the Cultists have set up properly, this will be very dangerous; are you a liability in such an environment?”
As his gaze returned to her, Violet, still flushed at the closeness of the ride and the sudden intimacy of his touch quickly countered “I maybe small, but I am no stranger to dangerous exploration, I found the map and even ventured out here on my own didn’t I?; I shall stick to your shadow”
The corners of Astor mouth lifted, a rare, fleeting grin – it startling, making him look less like a grim warrior and more like a man “Very well” he conceded
Setting off ahead f her, he stepped carefully towards the shadows beneath the lintel stone as Violet hurried to follow, her eagerness to keep pace battling with the dread of the dark place ahead
“Do you have….do you have a family Astor?” she queried, her voice quiet while still making attempts to fill the quiet between them, to try learning more “A wife?, perhaps children who miss you when you venture to places like this?”
Astor stopped just before a cavern plunge, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, causing Violet to bump lightly into his back “No” he answered, he had never considered the question deeply, merely answered reflexively “I have never pursued a relationship before; my way of life…, it is.., dangerous, I do not believe it would work, I travel too much, seek ancient sites as a living and I am often surrounded by danger”
Violet hurried past the answer, staring into the looming darkness, she was thinking aloud, a habit that often could get her into trouble “Well…” she commented absently, her mind focusing on his words carefully; her words escaping without realising “You sound perfect for me then”
Astor froze a moment, confusion now clearly evident for the first time as his posture became a little more rigid, turning his head sharply over his shoulder towards her, his dark eyes searching – Violet however, she had already adjusted her focus, retrieving a small spluttering lantern from her satchel, oblivious to his momentary bewilderment, nor notice the intensity of his unexpected gaze.
As she straightened back up, she looked forwards “Lead the way Astor” she whispered; lighting the darkness with the small, fragile beam “Let’s go find that artefact”
Astor couldn’t help but grin as he gave a slow nod, once again, moving forwards – the two proceeding together into the unknown.
Written By: Westley H.
Leave a Reply