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Prelude
"Give us your money, or we’ll slit your throats!" the leader of the ten brigands threatened, his sword waving menacingly at the two travelers.
The two men stood side-by-side, and seemed to be exact opposites in attitudes. One was clean cut, well groomed and shaking in his books. His off white shirt sat slightly askew from where one of the robbers had shoved him, a bruise forming on his cheek from a blow he suffered. He was scared witless and just stood there shaking. He looked to be a rich man’s son, and had never seen the end of a weapon.
The other man stood shadowed, though it was mid day and they were under the bright autumn sun. He was all in black, with a black cloak pulled up over his head even in the warm day. Leather gloves with black jewels adorned his hands, and a long sword rested easily on his hip. Where the other man was scared, he was fearless to the point of being oblivious to the highwaymen.
"Lord," the pretty boy said, grasping the other’s arm, "what do we do?"
The highwaymen laughed at the apparent fear that was in the young nobleman’s voice. They quipped at the fact he had no weapon of his own other than a hunting knife on his leg. They called him revolting names that made him turn red with both anger and embarrassment. They made up disgusting stories about his lineage, which almost made him lose his composure. However, his fear kept him at bay, and he did nothing but quake and beg his companion for advice.
"Looks like your friend has nothing to say," one robber said, smiling a toothless grin, "perhaps he will not mind if we lessen his load a few coppers!"
They laughed, and the speaker began to move forward, until the man in black spoke. It was a simple work, and no one understood what he meant.
"Itch."
They stopped, and the toothless robber looked at the leader, who simply shrugged and waved him to continue his play. The robber nodded and smiled, yet moved tentatively toward the mysterious man.
It started as a tickle on his chest. He didn’t pay any attention to the feeling, and just rubbed it away. It grew, until it was a burning itch on his very heart. He turned to his leader, who was likewise rubbing his heart area. The others in the thieving party all had the same feeling.
"Itch."
The burning grew until it was all over his body. It was an uncontrollable urge, and they scratched and scratched.
"ITCH!" the man in black screamed. Birds flew away at the fearful sound, and his fearful companion jerked away and tumbled in surprise.
Men screamed in agony as they ripped shirts away, trying to see the cause of their affliction, but there was none. It was under their skin, and animalistic reasoning took place of human thought, and they began to scratch harder at the skin.
Red lines from where they dug into their flesh began to appear. They looked in horror as their skin peeled away, but they continued to scratch. Their blood oozed from self-inflicted cuts, scrapes and gouges.
The toothless one dropped first, bleeding to death. His face twisted in horrific torment. His skin on chest, arms and legs shredded away, his muscles ripped into by his own fingers and nails.
Others soon fell to the itch. Their bodies likewise marred and disfigured, destroyed by the desire to stop the crawl under their flesh. As his a million tiny ants scurried along sinew and bone like their wood on dirt and rock.
The leader fell last, being the strongest willed. He gave a look of hatred and fear toward the man in black before falling on his own sword to end the torture.
"What did you do," the young man whisper, many emotions ran through him, and he didn’t know which he should feel. Fear of the associate for the strange power he seemed to posses or awe over the advantage he would gain in any court. Gratitude for saving his life, or abhorrence in the way it was done. These and many other thoughts ran through his mind, and he didn’t know which the best was.
"It is the beginning," the dark man said, his voice monotone and gravelly. He began to move off the road toward the forest.
"Beginning of what?" the nobleman called after him.
"It will be night soon," he said, looking at the sun that was, seemingly moments ago, just above. Now it seemed to be on the horizon, dipping close to the mountains and beyond. It would indeed soon be twilight.
"We should prepare ourselves," the dark man said again.
"You didn’t answer my question," the nobleman called, walking toward him, careful not to step in blood, "the beginning of what?"
The dark man stopped and waited for him to reach him before he turned to answer his question. The answer was so insidious and horrendous that it made the nobleman blanch.
"It is the beginning of your army."
Let me know what you think. This is obviously not a completed story. But it's the Prelude to something good .. we hope!
Chapter One is in the works. | 
