“The slayer? He uh, gave me this robe you see. I uh, saved his life,” he stuttered. Robyn’s expression darkened as she exposed his lie.
Robyn knew he was lying. “Tell me now, or I’ll gut you like a fish, boy,” her anger raged. With one hand she corrected a streak of red hair that fell over her face. The man’s neck dripped as she pushed the dagger closer.
“He should be back in town soon. I was uh, just borrowing his cloak you see. His house was empty when he left and I couldn’t resist. Please don’t kill me!” he begged.
Robyn returned her knife to her belt. The man let out a sigh. Robyn swung her fist and punched him right in his left eye, knocking him out. “Let that be a lesson to you!”
“Why don’t you ease up on the boy there, he’s only a harmless thief. He would have returned the cloak if you asked him.”
“Cleo? How long have you been standing there?” Robyn inquired. She climbed to her feet and looked over to the edge of the crowd.
An older man clad in a mail shirt and leather clothes scratched his short beard. He held his other hand on the hilt of the sword that hung at his waist. His aged face and various scars all told their own story, he was an old pro and mentor to Robyn
“We have much to discuss,” he said as he walked over to Robyn, placing his hand on her shoulder.
THIRTY NINE
Batting the stalks aside as he rustled through the field, Gladius’ mind wondered to Marin. He had a sinking feeling about her.
Should I have let her go off alone with that necromancer?
He was beginning to regret his decision to allow her to travel to Sunrise City with Umbra.
“Is everything okay, boss?” Fletcher inquired, noticing the contemplative look on Gladius’ face.
“I was worrying about Marin again,” Gladius responded solemnly, his eyes staring blankly into the clouded sky.
“She’ll be okay, Umbra seemed pretty reliable to me. And Astralode has that scrying orb, if she has any problems she can contact him,” Fletcher reassured him.
It didn’t work however, Gladius was still worried.
“Let’s deal with this demon first,” Gladius affirmed, storming onwards. Fletcher didn’t pursue this conversation further and just followed him, saying nothing.
The two heroes finally reached the edge of the dying crop-field. Gluttony’s fortress was on the far side of a decayed, dead plain. The peripheries of the fortress’ grounds were clearly marked by the dead, grey vegetation it encompassed.
Luckily there was cover in the form of broken trade carts, rubble, and piles of dusty bones. The two heroes took a moment to gather themselves before they darted to the nearest broken cart. A skeleton sat, crumpled at the helm, the reins severed. The horses were long gone, presumably the lucky escapees from the nightmarish wasteland.
They crouched behind the fallen cart and looked up at the fortress’ high walls.
Strange creatures patrolled the walls. They were hunched, grey creatures, with small heads and curved tusks. Gladius and Fletcher had never seen such creatures before.
“They look like summoned creatures, they seem so unnatural,” Gladius recalled Seth’s familiars from the siege years back.
The twisted figures lacked any consistency in their design, almost like they were just thrown together, they were true abominations. These creatures and their warped design now reminded him of the necromancer Seth’s minions.
Gladius slid on his helm, concealing clenched teeth as he replayed the events all those years back when he battled that fiend, Seth.
The most disturbing part was how he had the same cold, disconnected presence that Umbra had, like a detachment from moral obligation. Umbra had proven himself otherwise by defending Myst City from the vampires, but because of his resemblance to Seth Gladius couldn’t trust him entirely.
“So how do we get inside?” Fletcher inquired jerking Gladius out of his deep contemplation. They looked up to the guards walking awkwardly across the walls.
“We can’t alert the place, we have to be subtle,” he affirmed.
Fletcher’s eyes lit up.
“Now sneaking I can do,” Fletcher grinned, rubbing his hands together. “I can scale the wall discretely and let you in through one of the gates.”
Gladius agreed and crouched behind the broken cart. He watched Fletcher creep over towards the wall.
Fletcher extracted a large, hooked rope from his quiver and swung it around. The only noise heard was a subtle whistling from the wind.
With a show of finesse he launched the grapple over the top wall, dragging it back slowly until the line was taut. Gladius would have helped but his armor would rattle if he scaled the wall, alerting the guards.
Fletcher’s dark leather clothing blended perfectly against the darkened wall as the shade covered his ascent. Fletcher slowed as he neared the top when he heard the shuffling of the guards above him.
He slowly raised his head over the top to observe a single half-bone, goblin-like creature standing alone with his back to him.
It’s now or never!
Fletcher crept up behind the creature; slowly drawing a dagger he clamped his hand over the creature’s mouth tightly stabbing with his dagger to finish the job.
After this he placed the limp body gently on the ground, extracting a small iron key from the guard’s belt before tip-toeing past him. He slowly climbed down the ladder to the courtyard. His prowess at stealth amazed even him sometimes.
The darkened courtyard was nothing more than a gravel-choked dustbowl with the occasional withered tree. The tall guardhouses and chambers surrounded the court, casting shadows on Fletcher.
Fletcher rolled the key in his hand and looked around for the door. Lights from torches flicked from around the walls as the guards patrolled them. Fletcher glanced over to the main gate to notice a small iron-barred door that led outside.
A single odd-looking guard stood at attention next to the gate, shifting nervously in his tattered boots. He leant on a long pike. An unlit lantern lay next to him.
Fletcher carefully extracted his bow and an arrow. He tensed the string and fired a silent killer towards the targeted guard. The arrow lodged itself in the creature’s forehead as it crumpled silently to the ground.
Fletcher moved silently to the gate, stepping carefully over the limp body of the guard. Sure enough the Iron Gate keyhole was the right fit for the key.
“Pssst!” Fletcher hissed quietly to get Gladius’ attention. Gladius peered over the broken cart, immediately noticing Fletcher he crept carefully to the gate.
“We’re in, where is the demon?” Gladius inquired in a soft decibel.
Fletcher hushed him and pointed up to the main chamber in the middle of the courtyard. A bright light flickered in the top window. It was almost like a signal.
Leaning up against the shadowed stone wall they plotted their next move.
FOURTY
The pub lights flickered, a thunder storm erupted outside The Rusted Nail, the rain crashed down washing out the cobble streets. The other patrons kept to themselves, ignoring the hushed conversation between the slayers, Cleo and Robyn.
“So you say you have found that necromancer, Seth’s son? This is worrisome, if he’s growing in power it won’t be long until he turns and aids the demons,” Cleo stroked his chin, a grim frown on his face.
“He is growing in power, I can assure you. He eluded me twice already and I fear I can no longer do this on my own. That’s why I came here,” Robyn grimaced as she swallowed her pride. It was very rare she admitted she needed help.
“He must be something special if the proud Robyn admits she needs help,” Cleo commented as Robyn frowned at him. “Perhaps we could approach this in another way. You say he’s traveling with a companion, we could use her to get to him,” Cleo
clasped his hands.
“How do you suppose we go about that?” Robyn inquired her interest growing.
A clumsy barmaid strolled nervously towards the table carrying a tray of empty glasses.
“Uh… can I get anything for you?” she inquired tensely, looking down at her shoes. She looked up to see Robyn glare, and quickly turned to leave.
“Okay, so here’s what we do,” Cleo stabbed a dagger into the table and leant on the hilt, edging closer to Robyn. “Have you ever heard of a leaching sphere?”
“It’s a magical orb that drains magic. How do we find something like that?” Robyn inquired.
She was disappointed by Cleo’s flawed plan. Her eyes widened when Cleo reached under the table and rummaged through his pockets.
“I’ve got it covered,” he boasted, extracting a small black orb and placing it on the table.
Robyn brushed a strand of red hair from her face and stared at the orb intently for a moment.
“So how does it work?” she inquired with her gaze fixed on the orb.
“First you must lure him to use magic, then you block with this orb, once it’s charged you can use it to drain that kid’s magic power,” Cleo explained. “I recommend we dispatch the girl beforehand, that way he won’t hold anything back. She won’t be able to heal him then.” Cleo grinned revealing a blackened tooth.
“We should leave straight away,” Robyn insisted.
Umbra’s heart raced as he dodged Pride’s swings. Pride had discarded his sword and was swinging with his immense claws.
Umbra glanced over to Marin. She was twitching fiercely, the ogres around her were laughing maniacally.
The grim torches in the room flickered animating the shadows. The laughter echoing through the room was maddening, Umbra’s head was spinning. With a loud thud Umbra was knocked onto his back by Pride’s assault.
A line of blood trickled down Umbra’s forehead. Umbra wiped it away with his hand. The purple symbols on his body were now raging, he grimaced from the pain. He felt like his body was burning up, his muscles were pulsing and tightening. It was like his body was being tugged out of shape.
A surge of strength flowed through him as he leapt to his feet; Pride had a keen look of satisfaction on his face. “Not much longer and you will be one of us,” Pride boomed. The surrounding ogres cheered.
I have to get help for Marin! Umbra thought. He looked around desperately. Pride’s glinting sword lay on the ground across the chamber.
FOURTY ONE
The dark stillness of The Dead Lands was disturbed by the shadowy steed speeding across it. The dust trail behind the horse swirled, the dotted skeletons and rubble were easily dodged by the phantom horse.
Micah and Vlad clung tightly to the dark steed. It was semi-transparent, and it was odd how they were able to ride something that looked like a shadow. The phantom horse made no sound as it moved, just the eerie flicker of dust flowed behind it.
“It shouldn’t be much further, we’re covering a lot of ground on this thing,” Vlad called out loudly over the rushing wind.
“Now this demon, can she really help me become stronger than Umbra?” Micah questioned, his short blonde hair rustling in the wind. His hood flapped in Vlad’s face, who was too frightened to protest.
“She does have limits to her power, but I’m sure she can help us. However, we have to be prepared to strike up a deal,” he explained.
The phantom steed galloped onwards.
I know exactly what to offer her! Good-bye Vlad, you will soon outlive your usefulness to me. Micah grinned.
The monster that turned Lydia will be the key to avenging her!
The phantom horse leapt over a fallen boulder and clear into the air before landing perfectly on the other side without making a sound.
A massive storm-cloud gathered overhead as they neared Lust’s temple. A light mist obscured their view as they galloped blindly onwards.
Vlad gasped as they entered the quickly thickening mist. The phantom steed suspiciously enough knew exactly where to go, unaffected by the low visibility.
Finally after a few minutes of blind riding the mist parted and a hulking temple came into view. Like everything else in this desolate wasteland it was a ruin.
Cracked stone columns and menacing stone figures of twisted beasts lined the walls. It was not what one would expect from a temple devoted to the demon, Lust.
The air was stale and heavy, it pulsed slowly as if alive. The door to this ruinous temple seemed to emanate an unnatural coldness.
The dusty wasteland seemed to stir to acknowledge the new visitors. As they neared the temple the hairs on the back of Micah’s neck stood up straight, a cold shiver ran down his spine.
“We’re here,” Vlad whispered cryptically.
FOURTY TWO
The jeering crowd around Umbra was dizzying.
Hulking ogres pumped their hands in the air, cheering loudly. The colossal demon lord, Pride stood up straight and marched menacingly towards Umbra, who was panting loudly.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Pride chimed with an evil smile. He raised his curved sword and arched his back. He grunted loudly as he swung his immense sword at Umbra.
Umbra dodged clumsily to the side and clenched his fist launching a ball of dark energy. The energy struck Pride in his chest solidly almost knocked him off balance.
Marin was just a helpless spectator to what would be a fight to the death.
Umbra rolled to the side as Pride’s next swing planted into the ground. He concentrated and his body began pulsing, a red aura surrounded him.
With a burst of speed he slammed into Pride with a tackle, once again merely knocking him off balance.
“Is that the best you can do, boy?” Pride chuckled as he regained his balance.
Umbra’s scar lit up brightly as he continued swinging his fists at Pride. He attacked relentlessly, trying to spear him with his shadow. Nothing seemed to work.
Umbra’s desperation was growing.
The sound of that jeering crowd is maddening!
Pride landed a punch right in Umbra’s gut toppling him over.
“You know what you need to do to beat me,” Pride grinned. “I sense immense power in you, boy. All you have to do is give in to it,” he continued tempting Umbra relentlessly.
“Don’t” Marin coughed weakly.
“Maybe you need more encouragement!” Pride grinned with his razor-sharp teeth. He turned to Marin and held up his hand in a choking motion. A shadow swirled around her neck and slowly tightened. She was lifted off the ground, her legs kicking frantically as she gasped for air.
“Umbra… no…” she wheezed painfully. Pride laughed loudly.
Umbra’s anger was building, he couldn’t contain it anymore.
The shadows in the room were drawn to him; they began to swirl fiercely in a tight circle. The purple markings appeared and lit up his body. His aura crackled a fierce purple and his eyes flickered white.
What choice do I have? He had to silence that foul abomination.
“Put her down now!” he yelled loudly, his voice deeper than before.
“Are you ready for a little game now?” Pride inquired dropping Marin to the floor.
Umbra looked over with his flickering white eyes at her limp body, returning his raging glare to Pride.
“No more games!” he growled. “You’ll wish you never did that!” He lunged towards Pride, his body lit up in demonic symbols as his anger blazed.
Gladius and Fletcher watched from the shadows of the darkened courtyard in Gluttony’s keep. They were startled by a loud scream.
“Nooo! You don’t have to do this! Please!” a woman wailed hysterically. A group of grotesque guards dragged the rope-bound woman, passing in and out of the
long shadows of the courtyard.
Much to their dismay, the two heroes recognized the woman immediately. It was that same woman they had found hiding in the village.
“We have to do something,” Fletcher whispered, raising his taut bow. Gladius pushed it down.
“We can’t give ourselves away,” Gladius replied, averting Fletcher’s attention to the numerous guards above where the lady was being taken.
The lady finally disappeared from sight as she was taken into the darkened tower. She had screamed herself hoarse and given up hope.
“We need to know what we’re dealing with here. Gluttony is a demon lord so we can’t take him lightly,” Fletcher insisted, his gaze fixed on the guards.
“We’ll contact Astralode with the scrying orb and ask him,” Gladius extracted the small, crystal ball from a sachet at his waist.
He held it in front of him and concentrated. “Astralode, we need your help, can you hear me?” he spoke into the orb.
The orb shook and hummed as his message reached its target, a cloud formed and swirled inside the orb, gradually assuming Astralode’s visage.
“You called me, Knight of the Golden Sun?” Astralode replied.
“What can you tell us about the demon lord, Gluttony?” Gladius inquired cutting straight to the chase.
“Hmm, let me see here,” Astralode mumbled, scanning the immense library shelves behind him. One of his helper hands descended with a dusty tome and handed it to him before rushing off to continue its obsessive cleaning.
“Hmm, Gluttony…” Astralode scanned the pages. “Ah ha!” he announced excitedly.
“What is it, Astralode?” Fletcher inquired, leaning over Gladius’ shoulder.
Without looking up from his book, Astralode recited the passage. “According to lore, Gluttony infects his victims with a nightmarish sleep and feeds on their essence. His spit triggers this.”
Fletcher looked disgusted.
“Go on,” Gladius urged.
The Contracted Soul Page 16