Asenthine was on the outer part of the fray, executing his flawless swordplay skills which were now tested to the extreme. As the Niaughu attacked him in numbers, the regal Alunai struck fast as lightning, and took down many using the honed skill I had previously witnessed. With surgical precision he stabbed the creatures through their hearts, ending their vampyric existence.
Oily tentacles blinded my vision. I swung into a Niaughu torso, severing it completely in half, and absorbed its soul with delight. I was becoming so powerful that the mob dispersed, and several of the creatures fled from me in panic. I ran after them through the chamber and slew each I caught. Alien guts and brains splattered upon my shield. I gorged on their essence, much like they had previously done to innocent humans, no doubt. I chased them laughing in triumph.
The slaughter continued until most of the Niaughu had either been slain or had fled to another part of the cavern. As the area cleared a little, I peered through the chaos of dying monsters but saw no sign of the necromancer Nesadomntha.
Suddenly, there was a loud roar and I turned to see Asenthine face-to-face with the evil panther Sabarium. The vampyre hissed in rage and showed his fangs. He had his rapier outstretched toward the growling cat and was circling him slowly. The panther lunged and slashed him with deadly claws. It severed deeply into his upper thigh, tearing through his leather breeks and splattering blood upon the stone floor. Asenthine cried out and swiped once with his sword, barely missing the head of the great animal. Sabarium leaped at him with jaws opened wide, but landed on stone ground as Asenthine tumbled out of the way just in time. As the enraged feline’s muscular form came flying toward him again, the Alunai whipped twice with his rapier, and with its point, cut the great cat’s right eye from its socket. Blood sprayed and the eye fell upon the ground. Sabarium shrieked and Asenthine once again slashed, cutting a long gash across his shoulder blade before the damnable atrocity fled the scene, pouncing away into the cave’s depths.
I sliced another creature through the ribcage and pulled its beating heart from its chest. I dashed the foul thing to the ground like rotten fruit before running over to my companion who was tending to his wounded leg.
“Is it bad?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied. “Quickly, let us destroy the unborn ones.”
“With pleasure!” I agreed.
The two of us ran toward the space were Esmadrunga and her brood were seated. The stunned queen was even more grotesque up close. I tried my best to avoid coming too close to the tentacled alien-looking mound of wretchedness that drooled lazily, as if drugged by the subtle pollen cloud that still hung in the air.
Asenthine and I both hacked our weapons into the soft outside membrane of the pods surrounding her. A clear-greenish liquid gushed out, coating our armor as we tore through the amniotic walls to get to the Niaughu fetus. The queer things fell out convulsing upon the ground. As they did, we immediately stabbed them through the heart, or decapitated them. The helpless pups were killed with ease as we sallied forth through the nest, slashing open the placenta-like egg sacs and slaying the screeching, underdeveloped vampyres as fast as we could. Some flopped forth like fish out of water, attempting to bite us, but they were too weak to do any harm. I squashed the heads of many with my boot and Asenthine kicked some clean off their fragile shoulders. Others he chopped to pieces with his rapier. Covered in their birth-fluid, I crushed several with my ice-clad shield, and then chopped them to bits. Many died immediately as they came in contact with the cosmic energy that danced along my frame. Souls flew into my armor endlessly as the genocide ensued, and my strength intensified even more, the glowing aura that surrounded me radiating blindingly like a mantle of godly power.
Suddenly, amidst the slaughter, we heard a loud, deep growl like that of a giant demonic frog. Queen Esmadrunga appeared to have awakened from her daze and was now writhing about—apparently enraged at the many deaths of her young. Before I could react, one of her viscid tentacles whipped out and coiled tightly around my torso like a huge python. As I was raised into the air, I struck downward with my sword into the thing that restrained me, but amazingly, even with my strength at its zenith, I could not seem to sever or damage the thick cord. I marveled at this and continued hacking in haste. My efforts were futile as the queen brought me before her, holding me in the air still trapped in the deadly vice of the tentacle.
I could see my reflection in the pits of her beady black eyes that were seated in the strange mass of squirming, fleshy vegetation that composed her being. Her wet pig-nose dripped a purplish liquid that was the same color as the pollen which impregnated her. Sharp, yellow fangs with insects crawling between snarled from her horrible mouth, and a worm-like tongue flicked in the manner of a reptile.
Asenthine watched from below, standing motionless in the pool of dead fetus matter. I knew that he did not want to disrupt the balance by hurting the queen, as he had told me before, and must have felt helpless to save me. I on the other hand was desperate, and as I was held, started swinging my sword in an arc toward the horrid maw of the monstrosity. I was not close enough, however, and these efforts proved to be useless as well.
Esmadrunga’s eyes rolled back and she formed her lips in a circular shape around her fanged mouth. She then began sucking, pulling in air that flew into her mouth like great winds. Suddenly, I felt a strange, painful sensation as the ghostly aura flowing through my armor started leaving my body to join with the stream. The suction intensified and I watched in horror as the vampyre ghosts that provided me with strength were stripped from me and inhaled into the queen’s mouth. One by one they flew, and with each one I felt my strength wane more and more.
Amongst the noise of the wind, great laughter boomed through the cavern, and glancing down below, I saw that Nesadomntha had once again emerged from his hiding place.
“Yes! Excellent work, Queen of the Earthly Demonic! Take from him that which was once yours. Devour the sustenance that gives him such strength. Then we shall make him pay for his crimes!”
Agonized, I remained helpless in the queen’s grasp while my life force was drained. As the final spirits were removed from me, the Cosmic Ice encasing my armor melted and liquefied until it became a swirling blue substance that moved and pulsed as if alive. I roared in agony as it too was stripped from me and sucked forth into the queen’s greedy mouth. The glowing aura that surrounded me had vanished and I felt as if all my vitality had gone with it. Esmudrunga licked her lips in ecstasy as she feasted. The alien liquid quivered reluctantly in the air as it was pulled with the wind-stream. While it was being stolen, I felt as if every bone in my body was breaking.
When the last bit of the cosmic matter was devoured, the tentacle holding me loosened its grip and I was dropped to the cave floor, landing in the splattered guts of the infant Niaughu. The queen relaxed and fell into a deep slumber, seemingly satisfied by the feast. I tried to rise but was too exhausted to move. All my strength—even that of a mere mortal—was utterly depleted.
“Now, children!” cried Nesadomntha. “Return! He can no longer harm you. Come forth and avenge your brothers and sisters!”
From the cavern’s depths a scattering was heard. At their master’s call, the remaining Niaughu were returning.
Quickly, Asenthine ran over to where I lay. Conjuring all his might, he lifted my limp frame into his arms and tossed me over his left shoulder with strength that seemed uncanny for one of his stature. Carrying my heavy, armored bulk, he ran while the Niaughu chased us. Asenthine sprinted out of the chamber and back onto the path that led upwards. As one of the creatures approached him, he swiped behind with his rapier held in his right hand. The thing’s neck was severed. Its head hung by a thread before it fell.
My mind spun and my whole body ached as I lay nearly lifeless in the grasp of my vampyre friend. Whenever I opened my eyes, images were hazy and distorted. I heard only Asenthine’s panting, a running mob of creatures, and Nesadomntha’s mocking laughter echoing th
rough the bowels of the tunnel below.
Asenthine made his way steadily upward, keeping a safe distance from the pursuing monsters. The clumsy, newly spawned Niaughu were fast, but could not compete with the speed of the vampyre. As he came to the remains of the slain creature we had killed during our descent, he kicked it and caused the body to roll down the path, tripping many of our pursuers and causing the whole mob to stumble. Asenthine hastened, picking up his speed even more. As he came to the opening of the underground tunnel, he stopped, took me in both arms and leaped in a floating manner—as if in flight—out through the overhead cave opening, and onto the swamp bank where our steeds were waiting.
Merklethenon was standing near, but Wrathmane had fallen. Since the Cosmic Ice had been stripped from me, he too, had lost his powers. He appeared to be drained, as I was. Asenthine quickly laid me on the back of the black elk and mounted the beast himself. He then commanded Merklethenon in a tongue I did not understand. Suddenly, with the two of us upon his back, the elk stood over Wrathmane. In an instant his legs began to extend, so that he grew taller. Then, bending his knees unnaturally outwards, he wrapped his elongated limbs around the bulk of the lame warhorse, grasping its body like a spider holds its prey. The moment the slavering Niaughu emerged from the cave, Merklethenon beat his leathery wings and rose into the air carrying Asenthine and I upon his back, with Wrathmane in the grip of his mighty legs. Soaring into the moonlit night sky, the majestic beast bore us away. I looked down once and saw the orange glow emanating from the cave opening. The Niaughu swarmed around the beach like ants, enraged before the black brooding waters, as we rose higher, leaving behind the cursed swamp and its horrors. The chill of the night wind caused me to shiver, and it was not long before I became unconscious.
* * *
I awoke to the sound of crackling flame. Sitting up painfully, I discovered that I had been laid upon a forest floor before a campfire. It was still dark. Wrathmane was also lying on the earth nearby and Merklethenon was standing by him.
My head was pounding, and every muscle in my body ached. I tried to stand and then quickly sat back down, realizing I was too weak. My stomach churned and I vomited upon the leafy ground. Hearing a rustling in a nearby thicket, I reached for my sword which was still at my waist. I relaxed and was relieved once I beheld that it was but my companion Asenthine emerging from the surrounding brush. In the glowing firelight I saw that he was holding something in his hands, and had herbs bandaged around his wounded leg.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in his strange Alunaian accent.
“Like I’ve been through Hell and back,” I replied.
“Drink this.”
The vampyre handed me what looked like the bladder of some large animal that he had filled with water. I took it from him and drank. The water was cold and had a faint taste of blood. I guzzled all the contents and breathed deeply.
“Thanks,” I said.
Asenthine sat down upon the ground, across the fire before me. The moon gleamed on his straight onyx mane and ebon gauntlets. He had a crimson stain upon his lips that perfectly matched the color of his long cape. It was obvious that he had just feasted.
“You will regain your strength in time,” he said. “However, the queen has confiscated your Earthly Demonic sustenance, which is the essence of one of the three combined soul-types that made you what you are—or should I say, ‘were’? Now that it has been taken away, you no longer possess the power of the Cosmic Ice.”
I looked down at my dull, gray armor. It had lost its ethereal luster, and there were no longer any runes etched upon it. In truth, I looked like nothing more than an ordinary warrior returning from battle. I glanced over at Wrathmane who had also been weakened, since his power was an extension of mine. He lay there, ill-looking, like a lame stallion in a Duros Zuil pasture. I frowned and held my aching head in my hands.
“So, Karnov,” said Asenthine. “We have failed to destroy Nesodomntha, and as we speak, more Niaughu are being bred as a weapon against mankind… Now that you—the only one in this world capable of destroying them—have lost your supernatural ability, what do you propose to do?”
I looked up at the sky, and brooded silently for a moment while gazing at the dimming stars. Memories rushed through my mind of all that had transpired since my meeting with Asenthine in the market square. I felt as if a part of my soul had been stolen from me along with my faculties, but my courage and strong will still remained. Most of all, the hatred and the longing for vengeance that reigned in my heart burned brighter than ever. At length, I sighed, looked him in the eye and said:
“I think there is a certain witch we need to see…”
Book II By Howie K. Bentley
Chapter I: The Oracle
It was the heart of winter, and the gloomy evening waned beneath a dull grey sky. Dusk was approaching when we came to the edge of the forest clearing where sat the witch D’vartha’s snow-covered cottage. I raised my hand for Asenthine to rein in Merklethenon, and we came to a stop.
D’vartha’s hut had always unsettled me, what with the company of malefic spirits and entities that haunted the place, but what I now saw blasted my sight. The house was covered in strange runes—the like I had never encountered elsewhere—and the runes were painted in blood. The hut looked as though it had been visited by a bloodthirsty vandal who had plenty of fresh corpses to supply him with his paint.
“A great evil is afoot!” I hissed in whisper.
Asenthine nodded his head in agreement. “The cottage drinks the light like a succubus taking her lover.”
I had lost the power of the Cosmic Ice, but I still retained, to a small degree, the boon I had once been endowed with regarding the perception of occult forces. I squinted my eyes and saw a grainy mist swirling about the house. What great depths of gramarye was it that D’vartha now explored beneath the thatched roof of that hut?
As I focused upon the witch’s vine-clutched abode, a curious figure rounded the corner of the house and shewed itself. A pale little girl—her hair the color of straw—sat astride a hog and rode it around the yard. My keen eyesight observed from afar a face that appeared to have never smiled. She wore a white dress as a child might be buried in. Blood was splattered down the front. I saw her open her red-smeared mouth to speak to the swine, and the fangs of the vampyre shewed. Her alabaster gown—the front dyed brightly with splotches of crimson—was that much more pronounced against the image of the cutty black sow on which she sat. The child’s azure gaze appeared as that of one entranced and firmly fixed on Hell and nothing else.
We backed our mounts into the shadows of the trees verging on the forest and watched the child. The hog on which she sat paced the yard and rooted around. It snuffled as though poking through old apple cores. Anon, the child raised her head and sniffed the air like a wild animal as chaunting issued from the latticed windows of D’vartha’s abode. The door to the cottage swung open, and the girl rode the pig into the house.
Desperate as Asenthine and I were to remain hidden, we had no vantage to glimpse the interior of the witch’s home. I scanned the area and saw no immediate threats from the exterior of the house. I dismounted and tethered Wrathmane to a large oak. Asenthine tethered Merklethenon to an adjacent bole, and we slipped in closer to D’vartha’s cottage as the chaunting grew louder. Candlelight reflected on the windows, illuminating the inside of the cottage.
I chanced a glimpse through the window under which we squatted. Figures were gathered about D’vartha’s dinner table in a circle. They were a ragtag lot. Even those who weren’t clad in the garments of peasants wore clothing that had seen better days. Farmers, mendicants, traders, merchants, and nobility were all represented there—both children and adults. Whatever nefarious power held sway over the clandestine assembly did not discriminate.
The chaunting ceased and the figures joined hands and marched widdershins around the table. Anon, they stopped and moved to either side of the table, forming a path. In the brie
f opening, I could see a woman’s severed head inside a cabalistic circle drawn upon the table. The thing was withered and had bloody runes inscribed onto it. The head opened its eyes and spoke. Though the words were muffled, I could make out its speech. I heard it croak in a sepulchral rasp, “Hearken ye now of better days, listen to my words from beyond the grave. He who would have his greatest wish, must endure the shame of the Vampyre’s Kiss.”
All eyes then were on a thin young man with dark hair who stepped forward and stopped. After an uncomfortable pause, the head screeched. “Come on, boy! It’s not like I am asking you to kiss a goat’s ass. What is it you want more than anything?”
The boy stammered, but after a few tries, he managed to choke out, “I am from a poor family, and the others always looked down upon us. I would have riches and the fear and respect of all I encounter.”
“Then you shall have it. But first the kiss…” the dead woman’s head rasped.
The young man looked upon the abomination, entranced. Then he shuffled forth against his will. I don’t doubt that there was some part of him deep inside that screamed in protest of the nefandous act forthcoming. But his will was no longer his own, and whatever it was that possessed him made him shuffle over to the head. His own head he lowered to the abomination and lingered for a time. The lips of the bodiless thing must have locked with his, for I saw him straining as though he resisted. He tried to back away, but his feet might as well have been encased in lead. Anon, his body folded like a drained wineskin and fell to the floor. His head rolled and dead eyes looked in my direction. Looked, but did not see. I ducked under the windowsill but could still hear the voice of the head through the window.
“Take him out and bury him nearby in the forest. When the change is upon him, you will dig him up like the others, as was done with you yourselves. Then he will be one of us. Now, go and do Xycanthia’s bidding!”
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