Fan Fiction ❯ Necromancer ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Prologue

It was a dark day. Grey clouds filled the sky as they sobbed heavily on the city below. The cobble streets were abandoned, occupied only by the deep puddles that had gathered. Fire lanterns flickered furiously insider their glass barriers providing the only light for the lonely streets.

In the distance, a horse-drawn carriage made its way down the soaked roadway. Inside three figures, two men and a dark hooded figure, journeyed to their destination in anxious silence. One of the men was well aged, plump with a few strings of grey hair that threatened to fall out at any moment. His face was red and puffy and his eyes were dark and beady. His usual calm and carefree manner was overcome by restlessness and nervousness, and despite the chill outside he was sweating terribly. He looked more like an escaped felon than a politician. He cast hesitated glances all around the carriage, almost waiting for something to jump out.

The other man was young, and considerably handsome. His straight black hair was pulled back into a pony-tail and loosely tied with a ribbon. His attire was that of the wealthy and powerful, but his posture at the moment did not reflect his daily confidence in society. Although the younger man wasn't sweating, he did share his companion's anxiety. He stole a careful glance at the hooded shadow next to him and turned back to face the elder man.

“Can't this bloody thing go any faster?” the old man hissed harshly.

“No,” he whispered back, “if we go any faster in this weather we'll only draw attention to ourselves, and we can't risk that.” Despite his French background, he spoke perfect English.

The old man let out a frustrated breath and buried his head in his hand. He breathed heavily, deepening his frown with every breath; he just wanted this ordeal to end. The younger man sympathized with him; he didn't want to be in this carriage any longer than he had to. He sighed deeply and pushed himself back fully into his seat. He leaned back and closed his eyes; this was going to be a long trip.

 

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The carriage came to a sudden halt, startling awake the dark haired man. He sat up quickly as his eyes adjusted to the surroundings. How long had he been asleep? When had he fallen asleep? His heart raced rapidly, but let out a relieved breath at least he knew he was still alive. The hooded figure next to him hadn't moved an inch; he sighed again, the less movement, the better. Across from him sat the old man looking out of the small opening in the carriage door anxiously.

“Are we there?” he asked quietly.

The old politician nodded absent-mindedly, still searching the rain covered streets. The young man joined him searching the other window. He looked past the cloaked form, careful not to disturb and gazed outside.

Suddenly, the hood stirred and rose up, making the men jump. The cloaked form tightened its arms around itself, pressing up against the corner.

“He's here.” the politician whispered, face white as a ghost.

The carriage jolted.

“Yes,” he pale consort agreed, “he's here.”