Soldiers of Ruin

by Stephen L. Nowland

  The distinctive shape of wing bones could be made out to either side of the remains, and it was then Aiden knew for sure they were looking at the bones of a dragon.

  “There are more of them beyond this one,” Sayana exclaimed, hovering in the air above the dead beast and scanning the horizon.”

  “I have heard of this place,” Valennia said solemnly. “This island is where dragons come to die.”

  “Can you see anything else from up there?” Sir William shouted up to Sayana.

  “We are nearing the western edge of the island,” she called down. “If there was anything on this place, it has long been abandoned.”

  “That’s it?” Nellise remarked. “The reputation of this place is all because of a dragon graveyard and nothing more?”

  “There is still the question of what happened to Sir Godfrey,” Sir William replied, wrapping his heavy white cloak around him tightly. “He must be here somewhere.”

  “Unless his boat was dashed to pieces on the rocks,” Aiden answered grimly. “We saw a lot of wreckage, after all.”

  “We don’t know which part of the island he might have landed on, either,” Nellise added. “Perhaps he came ashore on this side.”

  “I have been looking for tracks and other signs of passing, but have yet to find any,” Valennia said.

  “Let’s check the western end in case he landed there,” Aiden suggested. “If there’s no sign of him, we should consider abandoning this whole endeavour. There’s nothing here at all, and if we start back soon, we can get back to the Redoubtable before nightfall.” There was no dissent from the group at this, though Sir William seemed crestfallen at the thought of losing one more friend.

  Onward they travelled, with the sounds of the sea crashing into the cliffs growing louder with each step. Soon, they arrived at the western shore and found a secluded cove nestled amongst the cliffs. A fishing boat was anchored in the cove, its sails reefed and its deck empty.

  “He must have circled the island looking for the best approach,” Ronan remarked. “Wish we’d bothered to do that.”

  “We would still have searched the entire island anyway, and discovered only that which we have seen,” Nellise shrugged.

  “Not so fast,” Sir William interrupted. “If they also found nothing, then where is the crew? Where is Sir Godfrey? They should have returned, yet the boat sits at anchor, empty and abandoned.”

  “They never left,” Aiden thought aloud as he arrived at the only conclusion that made sense. “Sy, can you float down there and see if there’s a cave?” The sorceress silently complied, stepping off the edge of the cliff and gently floating downwards. The rest of them carefully peered over, awaiting word from down below.

  “There’s a cave alright,” she called up to them, her voice almost lost in the blustering wind. “I see a path leading down from where you are as well. Just head south, you’ll see it easily enough.” Inspired by this sudden development, Aiden quickly led the others around a small hillock and found the trail Sayana had spoken of. Within minutes, they were standing before a large cave entrance, carved into the side of the cliff over countless years by the forces of nature. The sorceress emerged from the entrance and waved them in.

  “I found some tracks in the mud just up ahead,” she explained. “One of them was quite heavy, as if from an armoured person, and they’re less than two weeks old.”

  “I knew Sir Godfrey would have survived,” Sir William said triumphantly. “Lead us into this cave, so we might learn of his fate and that of his crew.” Sayana did so, and with Valennia by his side, Sir William drew Solas Aingeal and slowly made their way into the cave.

  The cave was only a few feet above sea level and would probably be partially submerged when the tide came in. Nellise and Aiden summoned their lights as it became difficult to see further in. The smooth walls glistened with moisture and the sounds of the crashing waves echoing along the tunnel slowly receded as they travelled.

  After a few minutes of squelching along through the thin layer of mud, the shape of the tunnel changed dramatically — no longer was it a smooth, rounded passage, but a roughly-hewn limestone brick affair that squared off the shape of the tunnel. Aiden glanced at the others, the unspoken understanding passing between them that they had found something significant.

  Dirt and muck encrusted the bricks, filling in the gaps between each stone and giving the place a rich aroma of the earth. The tunnel turned left, leaving behind the last vestiges of the natural passageway to the sea, as the group proceeded with caution into the new direction. Everyone had their weapons ready at this point and crept forward slowly, uncertain what to expect from this development.

  They passed a number of antechambers off to the side, each with a cracked and broken stone door lying upon the ground in the doorway. A dozen sarcophagi lay strewn about in the rooms, their contents gone. To Aiden, it seemed as if the place had been ransacked, although the layer of dust within each of the rooms suggested that if correct, it happened long ago.

  Pacian and Nellise went in to examine the last — and most intact — of these rooms, for she was curious about who had been buried here, and why the tombs had been desecrated. Pacian’s motives were probably less pure, but if he was disappointed at the lack of treasures to be found, he didn’t show it. Valennia and Sayana did their best to glean some footprints from the surrounding floor. Aside from the continued presence of the passing of heavy boots, nothing further was apparent.

  “These burial chambers pre-date the Church of Aielundm and were not sanctified by any method I am aware of,” Nellise reported. “The only symbols I can discern are not of any pagan god or gods that I learned about in ecclesiastical studies. I didn’t know there were people living on this blighted rock to begin with.”

  “Whoever they were, their bodies have vanished,” Sir William said with an edge to his voice. “Sanctified or not, someone has disturbed this burial site. This is an abomination in my eyes.”

  “I think we’re probably a few hundred years too late to catch the culprits,” Ronan remarked dryly.

  “Sir Godfrey’s prints continue on,” Sayana reminded them. Without answers forthcoming, they had no choice but to delve further into the mysterious catacombs.

  The passageway continued on for a short distance and then down a flight of stairs carved into the limestone. Cautiously, they moved on with Aiden in front, holding his auldsteel blade aloft, his light guiding them onwards. The passage levelled out and continued on for a little way, then abruptly opened out into a large chamber, the walls of which could not be seen within the range of their lights. Huge, gaping holes punctured the stone floor at regular intervals with twisted metal bars running across the top.

  Easing forward slowly, Aiden moved his light over the top of one of these holes and peered inside. A chill ran down his spine as he gazed down at a pile of filth-encrusted bones. The hole was probably ten yards deep, and the rotting remains came up to just below the half-way point. Disgusted by the smell and the implications, Aiden pulled back and took a deep breath to steady himself.

  “Some sort of prison pits,” Nellise surmised dispassionately after a cursory glance. “It’s impossible to know how many people were kept in here. There is a very powerful dark aura around this entire room… I don’t like it here.”

  “It’s not exactly a vacation for the rest of us,” Ronan commented laconically. He too gazed into the pit and came up with an interesting observation. “There aren’t enough bones there to make a whole person. I just see arm and leg bones, mostly. No skulls.”

  “Fascinating insights,” Pacian growled. “Is any of this relevant?”

  “I don’t see Sir Godfrey in there, so no, not really,” Ronan shrugged.

  “This gives us a better understanding of how the island came to get its name, though,” Sayana pointed out.

  “The tracks continue on, although there is very little mud remaining from the boots,” Valennia added, her voice trembling slightly.

&nb
sp; “If the tracks continue, so do we,” Aiden advised, gesturing for the akoran warrior to lead them onwards. It wasn’t a difficult path for them to follow — Sir Godfrey had clearly moved straight through the middle of the pits towards the other end of the room. A large door loomed out of the darkness as they reached the far edge of the chamber, but they came to an abrupt halt as they saw a figure in tattered black robes leaning heavily on a tall wooden staff.

  “Sir Godfrey, is that you?” Aiden asked, curious as to the nature of this strange individual. The features were obscured by his deep hood, but he could obviously hear them, for he stopped shuffling about and turned in their direction.

  “I don’t think that’s him,” Ronan murmured as it became obvious this man was no knight.

  “More interlopers,” the figure remarked, his voice guttural and dry. “Long has this island been a sanctuary from thy kind, yet in a fortnight’s span, scurrilous and vexsome visitations prolong my great works to no end.”

  “He’s speaking Olde Aielish,” Aiden whispered to the others in surprise. “It hasn’t been a spoken language in the kingdom for centuries.”

  “We have come seeking a missing companion of mine, and an obscure relic thought lost to the world,” Sir William intoned boldly. “Who are you that makes this tomb your home?”

  “I am… a caretaker,” the figure rasped. “Speak of these things thou lack, pursuant to leaving this island unblemished from thy passing.” Though his speech was difficult to understand, his general meaning was not.

  “The relic we seek is known as the Sceptre of Oblivion,” Aiden called, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. “It was thought to have been brought here centuries ago, and we want to recover it to aid us in our time of need.”

  “Sceptre,” the figure intoned, as if unsure. “Of. Oblivion. Where didst thou come by this knowledge?”

  “A tome titled ‘Ancient artifacts from Old Tymes’,” Aiden replied. “It listed several other possible locations, all of which we have scoured for signs of its whereabouts. This island is our last hope of finding it.”

  “A copy of that treatise resides in mine librarium,” their host explained. “In a hundred readings betwixt covers, never have I seen that which thou describes.”

  “But I have seen the words with my own eyes,” Aiden pressed.

  “The name alone… ‘Sceptre of Oblivion’,” the figure rasped. “Thou hast been made the fool, boy. It smacks of falsehood.” Aiden glanced around at the others, unsure if they should believe this strange monk.

  “May I see your copy, sir?” he asked politely, in spite of his growing unease.

  “No,” came the flat answer. “That which thou seek abides elsewhere, or not at all. Speak of thine other concern, that this meeting may end.” Aiden held back some colourful language so as not to upset their host, though he was bitterly disappointed at being unable to pursue this further.

  “He’s lying,” Pacian breathed quietly, and Aiden gave him the slightest nod of agreement. Sir William had stepped forward to speak.

  “We believe that Sir Godfrey Davis, of the Order of Aielund—”

  “Aielunnnd,” the figure interrupted, practically spitting the word out, startling them all with the sudden passion in his ancient voice. “Be thou from that Kingdom of wretches?”

  “How dare you impugn my country,” Sir William bristled, but the monk was paying no attention to him.

  “Thine unclean line of kings has found mine refuge,” the hooded man muttered ominously. “This will not stand. Thy lives are forfeit in service to the Great Cause, its hour come ‘round at last.”

  “What?” Pacian blurted in confusion. The monk raised his staff and the room began to shake. Aiden struggled to keep his footing as dust and debris tumbled from the ceiling and the roar of falling rock could be heard from the passageway behind them.

  “Get down!” Aiden roared over the tremendous noise. Everyone dove for the ground as a wall of dirt and stone rushed over them. The only one who did not take cover was Valennia, who raised her scythe and threw it at the robed man, striking him directly in the chest just before the view was obscured by the cloud of dust.

  Almost a minute passed before Aiden dared to open his eyes. Everyone around him was coughing and choking as the cloud began to subside, though it seemed as though they would survive. There was no trace of the robed man, who was clearly a wizard of some kind. Behind them, the way was now blocked by a wall of stone and debris, sealing them into the catacombs. Valennia moved forward, disappointed to find her scythe lying upon the floor, unbloodied.

  “Everyone okay?” Aiden croaked, receiving muted assent from his colleagues. Nellise was the only one to remain silent, her attention elsewhere.

  “Something’s coming,” She breathed, glancing around uncertainly. Aiden looked about frantically, trying to see what had her on edge, when he felt a wave of cold such as he’d never felt before send the room’s temperature plummeting. His heart skipped a beat as he locked eyes with a shadowy form drifting up from the burial pits next to him. It was inky-black and difficult to see any detail, but the flicker of a man’s tormented face could be seen in the depths of the darkness.

  Aiden froze in terror as the spectral visage before him reached out a vaguely skeletal hand into his chest, and the chill in the room seemed to be the height of summer compared to the icy cold that seized his heart. The wisp of a scream escaped his lips as he felt the life being sapped from him, until the humming blade of Solas Aingeal flashed past him, vaporising the grisly spectre instantly.

  Aiden gasped for breath and staggered backwards, the strength taken from his limbs. Around him, more of the shadowy figures emerged from the pits and whirled through the air, surrounding the group in a wall of shifting darkness. Their hollow screams echoed through the chamber as they closed around the terrified group. Sir William stood in the van, slashing back and forth against the spectral forces, to keep them at bay.

  “Rally to me!” he cried, snapping the rest of them out of their terrified trance. Aiden brought up his magical shield, but it was Nellise who stepped forward to hold back the tide. Raising her crystal in one hand, she began to glow with a pure, radiant light that bathed her comrades in its warmth. The spectres that had been closing in fell back at the emergence of the light, their shrieks turning to cries of despair.

  With the turning of the tide, Aiden and his friends went on the offensive, led by the fearless Sir William. The orderly flight of the spectres was thrown into chaos as his blessed sword bit into their ranks, while Ronan’s blades seemed to have no effect on the abominations as he slashed ineffectually at them. Valennia’s battle scythe, taken from a dark priest, seemed to give the spirits substance as it touched them, and the akoran woman carved them up as if they were solid.

  Aiden took out the wand he had retrieved from Feybourne, and spoke the word of command. A bolt of lightning crackled across the room, vaporising three spectres at once and driving others back, howling in dismay. Sayana let fly with a torrent of flames and found them to be equally effective. For the next few moments, Aiden and his companions unleashed their power and decimated the ranks until the spectres could stand it no more and dove back into the pits, unwilling to continue the assault.

  Breathing hard, Aiden fell to one knee as the imminent threat subsided, his limbs shaking with fatigue.

  “I don’t know what the hell those things were, and I’ll be happy if we never see them again,” Ronan muttered.

  “I think we did just fine,” Pacian growled, almost eager to continue the fight. He pointed the business end of his crossbow down one of the pits, but was disappointed to find nothing there.

  “This place is a bastion of unholy power,” Sir William remarked as he caught his breath. “I have no doubt Sir Godfrey has run afoul of that wizard and his nefarious associates.”

  “I think there is little doubt as to his identity,” Aiden added, his voice weak as he caught the attention of everyone present. “Those spectres came at his b
ehest, and he has no fear of existing in this place. Note that I said ‘existing’, not ‘living’, for I believe that was Aeldrith himself. Nobody else in history had so much power over the dead, and all we see before us was the reason he was driven from our lands centuries ago.”

  “How can a man live for centuries?” Valennia asked in disbelief. “Surely this is some acolyte of the original, carrying on his master’s dark works.”

  “We did fight men with power over the dead back in the senate a few weeks ago,” Ronan agreed. “Maybe this is where they come from.”

  “The one we spoke to didn’t talk in Olde Aielish,” Aiden answered as Nellise came over and laid a hand on his shoulder, and commenced praying. “In any case, I don’t think we’re getting out through that rockslide anytime soon. We should press forward and learn what we may. Our weapons are capable of dealing with these monsters.”

  “I’ll get the door open,” Pacian said, shouldering the crossbow and heading to the large metal gate that barred their way. Aiden nodded absently as he felt his energy returning through Nellise’s hand. He slowly stood and gave her an appreciative nod before turning to watch Pacian work his magic on the door.

  Within a few minutes the gate opened, and another passageway beyond beckoned. Steeling his nerves, Aiden and Sir William led the way forward, his senses alert for danger in the dark catacombs. It wasn’t long before they arrived at a junction — the left passage had collapsed a short way along, and the way to the right ended in another stairwell spiralling into the darkness below.

  There was something lying on the floor just before the stairs, with the dark form of a spectre hovering above. At the approach of Sir William and his blade, the spectre vanished into the wall with hardly a glance at them, leaving them free to investigate. As they closed in, it became apparent that it was a body, encased in scarred and battered plate armour, with splintered bones scattered around the floor beside it. Sir William staggered forward at the sight of Sir Godfrey’s face inside the visored helm.