Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

The Kingdom of the Damned
The Kingdom of the Damned
The Kingdom of the Damned
Ebook436 pages6 hours

The Kingdom of the Damned

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

In a Kingdom inhabited by all kinds of violent people, a petty thief, because of his clumsiness and lust, triggers a series of terrible events that will change everything. Thus, we will attend the practice of barbaric games and customs, the harassment of ferocious animals in forests where no one penetrates, the danger of entering the streets of a city full of criminals, crossings in the company of pirates and murderers, to irrational customs of an implacable convent, the adventure of arriving for the first time at unknown islands and the materialization of terrifying legends ... Because in the Kingdom of Gurracam, all its inhabitants are cursed.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherBadPress
Release dateJan 1, 2019
ISBN9781547563432
The Kingdom of the Damned

Read more from Mario Garrido Espinosa

Related to The Kingdom of the Damned

Related ebooks

Fantasy For You

View More

Related articles

Reviews for The Kingdom of the Damned

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    The Kingdom of the Damned - Mario Garrido Espinosa

    Dedication:

    To my parents and brother.

    To all those who believed in this novel, those who bought it in their original ebook format, those who read it and gave me their opinion (good or bad), those who were wanting for more, a second part, those who I was spoiled by the taste of what a character was doing to such or such a thing, those who asked me for new adventures of the protagonists, those who were active, day after day, on social networks for their bit (their like, comment or share) try to know what I write, believing as much or more than me that this dream would come true.

    Juanjo, who was my first reader, many years ago.

    And also to those who, being painfully close, did absolutely nothing. Let's not be spiteful at this point.

    ––––––––

    CHAPTER 1

    The intrusion of the clumsy

    ––––––––

    1

    ––––––––

    T

    his part of the four large ivies that, based on becoming entangled with each other, covered the small mansion, was half dry and about to die. At first glance, it might seem that the branches were attached to the wall as if it were part of its structure stone, but it was not like that. Instead, in this area, it’s quite the opposite, giving the feeling that the wall and the foliage professed, one towards the other, ancient and incomprehensible repulsion.

    The place was only bleak for a few hours a day. The sun, during the summer, punished with all its fury the wall of the building. The tall, lonely and old elm of the square, with its robust and straight trunk, appropriated, with the authority that it gives to be the first to arrive, of all the sun's heat that it could, relieving, unintentionally, some areas of the wall —and the ivy that covered it— of the prevailing hell when the day was halfway. But the elm did not manage to cover all the ivy and the insufferable dog days were ending with each one of the drops of water that ran through its structure. In addition, no one took care of watering the climbers from the day that Sir Higinio was installed permanently in the mansion. In fact, before some plants lost most of their moisture, the owner had thought of tearing them out and leaving the walls bare. In the end, due in part to the titanic work that nobody wanted to do —although it would have been well paid—, the ivy was still there, dying with the slowness of a tortoise's walk.

    Because of all this, it was not a good idea to try to climb that route.

    A small, delicate creak sounded, almost imperceptible, but for Mario Toulon Middle-voice Rabid it turned out to be so loud and clear, so thunderous, as if only this noise had existed on earth. Instantly, he began to be aware that his life hung by a thread or, to be more accurate, from a twig of equal size.

    He was not a good climber. Actually, this was the first time he climbed a wall. He was a man capable of walking, without taking breaks, large horizontally distances and on foot —in fact he did not have nor known how to ride a horse, which is very rare in those parts— but he had never considered, until now, the possibility of moving towards up and in total verticality.

    Being manifest the little security and experience that demonstrated, Mario Toulon began to go down, with extreme care, where he had gone up. He took his time searching among those damned oval leaves for the thickest and theoretically strongest branches, but the foliage hid, almost maliciously, the improvised handholds ... He arrived, having much luck, to the area of ​​the climber that did not seem dry. He twisted one foot in one of his abundant branches, full of knots in that area. In this way he managed —without his first intention— to partially discharge his weight on his leg and thus remove some responsibility from his trembling hands, since they still grasped, with much fear, almost dry areas.

    The man had a good time in this last position. Quiet, like a ridiculous black spider that dozed with its eight legs stuck to the wall. He seemed to be resting but, actually, he did not know where to go. From time to time he trembled painfully if, by the action of his own weight, the plant moved a little bit. This agitation was maximum when he decided to detach one of his hands thinking he had found another branch to tie it. Immediately, the intrepid hand returned to its original place.

    He was sweating like never before. His hands, between sweat and fatigue, no longer resulted from the effectiveness from the beginning. They slipped, almost unnoticed, through the hot leaves. And if all this were not enough, he began to have untimely cramps in his arms and legs, which he endured with gallantry, because he had no choice.

    After the fifth painful contraction of his muscles —which now occurred in the left calf— he discovered a branch that crossed the wall almost horizontally, and that, being in front of his nostrils, he had overlooked until that moment. He managed to hold on to her, after executing a little difficulty maneuver, but for Mario Toulon turned out to be a feat worthy of note. In spite of this last effort and that his position had improved remarkably, his hands —whose palms protested emitting an intense and constant pain—persisted in traitorously slipping away.

    How long could he stay like this? In a few seconds their punished fists would refuse to remain closed any longer.

    A new cramp erupted in his left hand. Then it was his right hand’s turn. The third cramp was so violent that the man released his two hands from the branch whose position was parallel to the ground. When he saw himself half suspended in the emptiness, he tried to push himself, in a very vague and desperate way, to hold onto the branch again. He reached his objective with his left hand, but the pull was so strong that the plant roared with another one of its already familiar creaks, to later split definitively.

    He closed his eyes tightly, gritted his teeth and waited with painful resignation for the blow to the ground. And he waited. And he waited a while that seemed a long time. He was so high! It was going to be a terrible blow! He shrugged his shoulders, pulled his hat to his brow, and gritted his teeth again. He waited. He listened to his heart pounding to the break point. He kept waiting. And he waited ... but it was already too long, so he opened his eyes and found with surprise that he did not rush towards the ground; he only experienced a slight rocking. He took a deep breath and became aware of his dangerous position: he was face down, five or six meters high, supported only by that foot which had twisted in the ivy. Finally, he made an effort, despite his daze, to think how he would get out of that situation. A situation that only he had sought.

    ––––––––

    2

    ––––––––

    The immense woman stopped at the fountain, turning her back on Mario Toulon. This one, upon seeing her, held his breath and tried to make his swing minimal. The girl, who was well into flesh and years, unloaded a basket of eggs on the incandescent floor, assuming the risk of bursting by the high temperature of the pavement. He scanned the bottom of the three streets that led to the uncrowded Hundred Fires Square. They were deserted. He did not bother looking at the top of the houses, maybe thinking that no one at four in the afternoon, with a sun of a thousand demons, would be leaning out of a window. They seemed more likely to find themselves napping in the cooler room, waiting for the relentless heat to subside as the day ended.

    The fat woman got up the gigantic and threadbare skirt that, based on many meters of cloth, covered a huge belly ending in two wine-barrels size legs, and absent, therefore, of any female form. Then she sprinkled water all along and wide that part of her body. Then, not without difficulty, she cupped her cleavage, one by one taking out her two fallen, venous and ugly breasts, similar in volume to her excessive belly. She refreshed by herself abundantly that pair of udders and when she saw them fit, she turned around, sat in the sink and, to the horror of Mario, settled again in place the pair of flabby tits.

    The man began to despair: first by the horrible spectacle; and second, because the branches that supported him, seemed to resist no longer his weight and would break soon. In addition, the hateful bellowing of a pair of male cicadas, which prevented him from thinking clearly in a way to avoid the imminent and safe blow, got through his ears.

    The heavyset woman, already more slowly, wet her face. She must have understood that putting her head in the pool was a quicker method than approaching the water, using her hands like a bowl, to her ugly face, and, without thinking twice, she introduced the skull right away until she got wet her shoulders. The formed waves partially overflowed the accumulated water.

    Mario Toulon began to notice some problems to breathe air into his lungs. With heat and the posture he started to turn red. Soon his sight was clouded. Disappear once and for all, damn fat woman! Shouted the poor man in his head, and he could not help but feel a certain horror when he saw, now in a rather blurred way, the woman’s face, who was showing her oiled, wet and black hair stuck to her forehead and her tremendous cheeks, where soon after you noticed you could discover small badly healed sores.

    The cicadas continued to rub the rough areas of their first pair of wings, competing to see who bothered more with that noise.

    The depleted girl reflected a face of immense satisfaction and sighed with relief ostentatiously. Mario Toulon, however, rehearsed with his face strange faces and judging by the new color that began to take his face, it should not be long before all the blood stored in the body ended up staying on his head.

    The woman looked for the first time in a few minutes to left and right, then bared her foot and, with an unimaginable agility in the beginning, raised it and submerged it in the pool, lifting, with a certain grace, her Varicose constantly wobbling and abundant flesh leg, as if it were of a girl’s of a few years and many dozens of kilos less. Afterwards, the other foot received the same treatment.

    Leave at once ...! Mario Toulon pleaded, his eyes clouded at all, to any divinity that might be listening to him.

    Just then the woman coughed as if something obstructed her throat. She cleared her throat with force and, taking impulse, spit a greenish-brown substance that crossed the water of the pool as if it were a stone, to end up staying among the scum of the bottom forming a small crater. The water partly clouded for a few seconds.

    Mario Toulon's complexion color now turned to greenish tones, curiously similar to those of the bodies of the two insects, which not only did not remain silent, but at times seemed to make a louder noise.

    Finally, after a long time, the megalithic woman picked up her basket of eggs, rehearsed a last sigh of pleasure and left where she had come, leaving a trail of water that was absorbed by the floor immediately. Mario Toulon breathed strongly all the air that was missing and, in doing so, the branch of the strenuous plant, already half parted, broke completely.

    The sound of the blow silenced the two cicadas.

    The fall had taken place at incredible speed. The head was the first Mario Toulon’s body part that hit the cobblestones of the street, next to the holes where the main branches of the ivy came from.

    Two minutes later he sat up in a daze and remain sat, leaning on the palms of his hands in a slightly stupid position. He was not very aware of the reality that surrounded him and followed with his eyes a collection of stars and lights that only he could see. Instantly he noticed that his hands, legs and ass burned like hell. The ground of the street, because of the last hours of implacable sun, was burning. He jumped up and, suddenly remembering the unworthy intentions for which he had come to that square, ran to hide.

    ––––––––

    3

    ––––––––

    Mario Toulon, half hidden in an alley, observed for a few minutes the stillness of the place. Nobody seemed to have heard anything or simply did not want to look out over the brazier that was at that time the Hundred Fires square. When he understood that the danger had passed —a danger that, in fact, never existed— he decided to evaluate the damage.

    He took off his hat, which was curiously similar to what the French musketeers had worn fifty years before, and noticed that it was completely wrinkled and misshapen. That hat, with its ornaments of plucked plumes, had never been much. In fact, he had found it lost —perhaps thrown away— at the edge of a road through which nobody ever passed. Since then he wore it in all the top of his head, having great affection. Today he was older than ever, but the thief did as well as he could with a blow here and another there, and it was not worse than before the blow.

    As in a reflex act he put his head in his hand. It hurt a lot. Exploring his skull he felt some pieces of something attached to the hair by the places where he felt the most discomfort. One of these particles was plucked and without knowing how to recognize that it was, in an instinctive act, he put it in his mouth, where he tasted and bit. After a while he spit it out without noticing that it was one of the blood gobs from the small gaps that were created in the final impact of the great fall, and that with the horrible heat had dried soon, forming a few graceful dark red scabs. He did not worry too much because it had been a long time since that hair touched the water and, even less, the soap. He thought, finally, that they would be the remains of dirt that were customary to populate any part of his anatomy, and thus settled the matter quickly turned to put his battered and appreciated hat, as he felt like cooked his head.

    He examined his sword —which surely was not made of Toledo steel— and saw that with the fall it had changed its straight form to a capital L form. He kicked it to the ground and when it was more or less right —which did not require too much work— he studied another way to climb.

    It did not take him a minute to realize that he could not think clearly. His curiously courteous and dark colors clothes, which were completed with a tie of linen and lace very fashionable —God knows where he would have stolen them— were roasting him. The thief had to alleviate in some way that embarrassing feeling that he was beginning to feel, so that, making as little noise as possible, he put both legs into the pool of the fountain, and, when he thought it appropriate, he put the rest of his body in the water, including the head and the hat, which, instead of floating, stayed attached to his skull, as if his hair generated a strong glue.

    ––––––––

    4

    ––––––––

    This time, he went up without problems. The fresh water of the fountain managed to clear him of the stun accumulated by the heat and the terrible blow. First, he quietly studied an itinerary from the ground and thus chose, carefully, which a priori seemed better branches. He had learned the lesson and now he did not think to ascend without more, thus giving wings to his clumsiness regarding the climbing discipline. Consequently, he placed his feet in the right places, his hands grasped the correct branches and in a few seconds, with formidable ease, he reached his goal. It was from that perspective when he found that on each side of all the windows rested a coat of arms quartered in cross, sculpted in the stone. From below, because of the thick ivy, they could hardly be distinguished. Some of them were somewhat deteriorated, however, those closest to him retained the appearance of the first day. It was not the first time he had seen this type of emblem, but he did not remember the reason why it was so familiar to him. Immediately he forgot about the shields and set out to observe, through the window, what was housed inside the mansion.

    There he was, dazzling in the privacy. Mario Toulon was very happy for not being wrong. Almost a couple of hours before he had distinguished her right in this window, when she was heading towards the mansion, through the widest street of the three streets that were leading to the Hundred Fires square. At that time he was not sure how he was going to get to her, but as soon as he saw her through the window, suddenly, the idea of ​​crazy climbing came to mind. If he had not seen her, he would not have dared to try anything and everyone's future, therefore, would have been less dramatic.

    ––––––––

    5

    ––––––––

    That woman was beautiful indeed. Her name was Laura Lopezosa Quesada, and that name would last in the thief’s memory for the rest of his short life.

    In the last hour she had been busy preparing herself for a nice bath. She went from one place to another with wooden buckets full of water, collecting the spout from the fountain located in the inner courtyard of the mansion. Previously, she boiled a little water in the kitchen fire, mixing it with a medium bowl of rose-scented perfume. She poured the hot liquid into the huge metal bowl she had used to bathe since she was a child. She waited for the mixture to cool a little bit and the whole room ended up smelling beautifully.

    All this work could have been done by a servant, but Laura knew from her own experience that water was never the way she wanted it: neither in quantity, nor in temperature, nor in the smell of roses ... nor in anything. So everything was done by her, and with the force of habit she ended up doing these works with pleasure; not in vain it was a way like any other to combat the permanent boredom of the town in which she had lived.

    Once the oval container was full, she put her fine fingers in the water and found that it was to her liking. Satisfied with the result, she left the cubes she had used at the door of her room for a servant to take them away; then she locked.

    She always felt very happy in the early days of a good bath. Every two or three days —an exceptionally short time for the customs of that Kingdom— she devoted a couple of hours to her personal hygiene with great pleasure and this state of mind made her recite poems and sing old children's tunes that had perpetually settled in her memory. Thus, almost without being aware of it, she began the intonation of the first stanzas of a famous song:

    ––––––––

    In an eastern kingdom,

    a dark, fatal day,

    very clear you could hear

    in a sumptuous palace

    with sinuous corridors

    that a princess cried.

    Her complexion pink

    She was not so beautiful anymore.

    Her tears escaped

    between colored rugs

    and after perfumes and vapors

    a princess cried.

    Of all the songs that Laura had learned, her favorite was The Princess Tree. It was an old, innocent and long song that very few in the Gurracam Kingdom had not heard —even if it was only one of its more than three hundred and sixty verses— from some minstrel or occasional singer. Laura knew it all and was able to sing it from beginning to end or beginning with any of her stanzas. Reciting it always put her in a good mood; despite the undeniable sadness of the story, Laura was aware of her happy ending. She continued with the children's song:

    The palace saddened,

    everything was gray, without color.

    The king was worried:

    "The spoiled heiress

    what are you sorry for!"

    And the princess cried.

    They brought a thousand golden objects,

    but her crying did not stop.

    The Queen was worried:

    "What was happening

    That it seemed so sadly!"

    And the princess cried.

    Mario Toulon leaned out the window just as Laura Lopezosa began to gather her hair in a bun, unintentionally leaving a graceful strand of hair loose in the middle of her face. Without knowing that she was being spied on, she ordered a bar of green soap, brought from San Josafar, and a white towel with soft, spongy hair on one side of the makeshift bathtub. Mario took the chance to open a little bit one of the leaves of the window. That movement made more noise than expected so the thief interrupted his action leaving a crack. Laura was still singing outside the window where nothing should be out of the ordinary. Then Mario could hear it:

    The King, not to go worse,

    The two best doctors were brought.

    They were received when they arrived

    Nopal from Poland

    and Sipol de Palandya.

    And the princess cried.

    The doctors applied

    their science, which they demonstrated,

    but solution they did not find.

    They got failures

    and they left failed.

    And the princess cried.

    Laura began to take off her already few clothes. Mario Toulon could not help but be aroused by the simple fact of seeing the female way that was taking off her clothes the woman he spied on. She did it piece by piece, folding perfectly each garment and depositing it in one place. She seemed to be performing a kind of highly attractive ritual, with steps and movements that had been done in that way for a long time.

    The man thought to enter at that moment because his position, hanging from a treacherous plant, gave no security, but waited to see how she got rid of all her clothes, almost childish; and he enjoyed contemplating the majestic way in which she bent to leave her clothes or the mechanical gesture, constant and provocative to remove from her eyes that strand of hair that had not collected in her bun. When she began to get rid of the latest clothes, the thief changed his excitement by pure and simple admiration to the body of a woman who had the luck to contemplate to, moving with free naturalness.

    Laura, oblivious to everything, continued to sing with an increasingly high, harmonious and perfect tone:

    Beautiful and gentle came

    a thousand single princes.

    More said they loved her

    and on their knees they cheered her,

    but she rejected them.

    And the princess cried.

    A thousand jesters got to the Kingdom,

    the funniest of any place.

    With their jokes the attention they called.

    See the princess laugh they wanted

    but she did not even smile.

    And the princess cried.

    Thousand high magicians

    they came to hear the havoc

    and although they looked

    in their potion books

    They did not find solutions.

    And the princess cried.

    «Now she will go into the tub and soap herself all over her body», the man's sad mind deduced, just at the moment when Laura Lopezosa was totally naked and interrupted her singing to, little by little, go into the warm and perfumed water.

    Suddenly, the ivy creaked, warning that it did not want to support the weight of Mario Toulon. He, understanding that his position was no longer safe, decided to act.

    ––––––––

    6

    ––––––––

    Laura Lopezosa Quesada had almost got one foot in the water when she saw as stupefied as a man opened the single window of her room suddenly and then calmly passed by. His long hair was disheveled, dirty and wet with sweat. His ridiculous hat and wrinkled clothes seemed to have been soaked minutes before. His congested face was familiar to her —indeed, too much— but she did not remember who he was or the situation was conducive to thinking about it.

    Holy God! she shouted as she hurried to try to cover herself with the white-haired towel.

    Do you not remember me? the thief commented quietly. I am Sir Mario Toulon, your most fervent servant...

    Get out of here!

    Do not panic. I would never hurt you.

    I'll call my father...!

    Calm down my dear Laura. Let me remind you beforehand who I am Mario Toulon said, who had noticed with great pleasure the enormous temperature difference that was enjoyed in the room compared to that of the street. The mansion seemed to have properties similar to those of a cave. Maybe that was why the window was closed. In addition, the soft smell of roses in the room turned out to be the most delicious that his poorly trained smell had been able to detect throughout his life.

    Laura Lopezosa, in a state of nervousness, ran towards the door, turning a deaf ear to what that man could say, who kept spitting words out of all reason. Mario Toulon was faster and prevented her from reaching the exit, taking a flying squirrel jump and miraculously grabbing her by one of her fine ankles. In spite of everything, the girl could reach the handle of the door, but since it was locked, she could not open it. Desperate, she began, without neglecting the towel, to shake and pull her leg, but the man's big hand did not release her delicate ankle.

    You’re hurting me! she protested scared.

    Do not try to run away from me the thief pleaded, as he laid on the ground clutching the girl's ankle. Then there was a moment of silence. It was barely a moment but the two of them stood still in their ridiculous positions and Mario, more versed in these conflicts, took advantage of the bewilderment and kissed the toes he was holding. After that, he looked up, looking for the girl's beautiful big eyes.

    You can see that my intentions are good...

    Laura looked at the man with clearly surprise.

    Let me go then...

    No, until you calm down.

    Seeing that she would not get anything with words, Laura flexed her legs and with both hands tried to open the claw that immobilized her ankle. It was a big mistake, because Mario Toulon took the opportunity to take her from her soft right wrist.

    Let me go! she insisted irked.

    Come on! I can not believe you do not know who I am.

    Mario pulled Laura's arm and stood with his back to the door. She, who could barely control the towel with the hand that was free, began to feel a great shame.

    Yesterday, in the Great Square the thief said without raising his voice. Remember?

    The girl thought about what had happened the previous day and immediately knew, with a certain terror and disgust, who that man was. It was curious how that subject had disappeared from her mind despite everything that had happened in the Great Square a few tens of hours before. Then, she stumbled when she saw that a hand came threatening to her left breast. The towel that covered part of the body had fallen down that side, revealing a virginal round breast, in which protruded a small nipple of a very dark brown color, which contrasted with the pinkish whiteness of the rest of her skin. With her free hand she hit a blow with the hand, accompanied by a nervous shriek, managing to deflect the trajectory of Mario Toulon's trusting hand. This reddened after the impact because the girl was wearing on her index finger a fat and heavy gold ring in which was attached a blue stone that, perhaps without being, could go through a turquoise. With half of what that gem was worth, Mario Toulon could have lived like a king for many months.

    Don't be rude. Do not have this attitude with me Mario Toulon begged while gazing at Laura Lopezosa’s thin body, who was now completely naked, almost helpless, since by taking the thief’s hand off, the towel that partially covered her had fallen down. Set free your conscience once and for all. Deep down I know what you want and it matches what I want, he added, rubbing the hand that had been hit by Laura's ring and in which he then felt intense pain. It is foolish to delay something that we both strongly desire.

    Having said that, the man released Laura Lopezosa and, without moving from the place, prepared to remove his clothes and weapons.

    What are you doing?! Get dress and leave! I do not want anything with you! Laura said desperately, as she retrieved the towel.

    Of course you want something. Yesterday you told me with your face, with your gestures and with that smile and that beautiful look you gave me, he said when he was completely naked, revealing a body that was not of exactly an exceptional beauty. Maybe you think I'm so foolish that I do not know how to understand the meaning of that last look of yours.

    Laura Lopezosa did not remember giving any specific type of look. At the most she must have shown a happy face when she got rid of him. Immediately and out of pure instinct, she fixed her eyes on Mario Toulon’s body and her face betrayed her: she had never seen a naked man. Mario realized this and was happy inside. Certainly he must be the first and, therefore, she would have to be a virgin. Before he left his stupid self-absorption he left her without the towel with a single tug. She wanted to scream but she could not, absorbed in the contemplation of that hanging thing she had remarkably heard of about, especially her sister —who even made her drawings of dubious taste— but she had never seen in the raw. She was confused. She did not know if that was really the case or her sister had cheated on her, describing things not belonging to this world. Laura did not know it yet, but her feeling at that moment was of pure disappointment at what the assailant showed there. The girl imagined it as something much more spectacular, but in that man there was only a piece of ugly, haggard and seemingly feeble flesh, struggling to stand out from a bunch of black hair, tangled and dirty.

    ––––––––

    7

    ––––––––

    A person spied, listening with the right ear pressed to the wall, from the moment that Laura Lopezosa issued her first

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1