Black Riders. Samuel I Sinclair

She was one of the two most powerful beings in any of the three worlds. Her shadow eclipsed the great moon that rose over the sky during the cold, dark, and eternal. And those who dared to look upon it suffered greatly. The moon rose twice every eternal night. But the blood moon that rose now was rarer than an honest man in her kingdom. Thus, many still dared to look upon it. The shadow that eclipsed the moon didn’t always bring misery down on those who risked a glance. There were few and far between moments where she chose to have pity or show mercy on a poor unfortunate soul.

“He has a plan for all”—she had been known to say in times of pain—“but that doesn’t mean it is always a pleasant one.”

She stood atop the balcony of her glass palace and looked out at her kingdom, a land comprised of cobblestone pathways leading to massive cities quarantined by unbreakable walls and covered by raining ash. She turned and stepped back into her bedchamber, grimacing.

“Curse them all to here forever. He damned me here, and for what?”

She stopped at the side of her bed and stood there a moment before sitting at its side. There was a rope hanging at the side of her bed, and when she pulled, a bell rang in a tower high above, and the glass of the palace trembled, coming close to shattering.

A moment later, the opaque door to her chamber opened, and a creature stuck its head in. The creature was a horrific monster with an insect-like appearance and several sensitive-looking pink eyes. Its mouth had row after row of jagged teeth that could tear through anything, even armor.

“You rang, Your Majesty?” it hissed.

“Is the banquet hall ready?” the queen asked hopefully.

“It has been prepared, just as you asked.”

She smiled and stood up and uttered, “We haven’t a moment to lose.”

The creature turned and hurried through the doorway with its master following close behind. They walked down a spiral flight of stairs. Her bedchamber was at the top of one of the highest towers in her palace because it had the best view of her desolate lands. They passed through hallways lit with blue fire torches and passed rooms that had never been opened during her reign in this kingdom.

In general, she didn’t need a guide to lead her through her palace, but she preferred to be led by one of her servants. Nearing the banquet hall, a pleasant aroma met her nostrils, but she knew it shouldn’t have been there. Reaching the hall, the creature opened the doors that led inside, and she quickly entered. The hall was an impressive room with a massive ironwood table with a white silk cloth over it; this was hard to obtain in these lands and thus only used for special occasions. Five ironwood chairs had been placed around the table, and there were at least two dozen other nightmarish creatures standing near the table.

Each creature held silver platters with lids on them in their hands, tentacles, or claws. From these platters came the delightful smells, but she knew what was really hidden underneath. Scanning the rest of the room, she could see on the back wall, a collection of skeletons with centuries of dust atop countless generations of spiderwebs layered so thick that, in combination with the dust, almost resembled skin. Each skeleton was playing an instrument older than them. It would be impossible to tell just how old the “band” was because at the shutting of the banquet hall door, they crumbled to nothing.

Satisfied with the state of the room, she moved to her position at the head of the table. As she did, four dark silhouettes moved into the other chairs. Three had the form similar to humans, and the fourth was some form of large animal, yet each had its own unique and defining features.

Upon reaching a sitting position in the chairs, and the animal sitting on a small platform, The Queen waved her hands, and the monstrosities closed in and placed their platters upon the table. They removed the lids, and the true smell of the dishes was revealed.

On top of some of the dishes were bowls of boiling blood and swamp water filled with leeches. On others were skewered rats roasted to the point of complete blackening. On more were maggot-ridden flesh slices. But the most prominent of all, both in scent and sight, were the dozens of different meat pies filled with what ancient tribes of cannibals called long pork.

“Let the feast begin,” the queen said.

The creatures backed away from the table, but the four didn’t touch a single morsel. She noticed this yet didn’t look even slightly put out of continuance.

“Master,” the closest female silhouette on her left said, “may we get down to business and not waste time sitting here feasting?”

“Not that we don’t appreciate all that you have done for us,” the only male silhouette added.

“No, not at all,” the queen said with a sadistic smile on her face. “But I would hate to have such valuable food go to waste.”

She snapped her fingers, and the creatures took the platters.

“The strongest amongst you may feast.” The queen bargained while still keeping her sadistic smile. “But not in here.”

“Thank you, mistress,” one hissed, and they all bowed.

With platters in hand, they scurried, slithered, and crawled to the doorway. Once outside and the door was shut, the shrieks of pain could be heard.

“Was

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Black Riders. Samuel I Sinclair

Black Riders

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