by Kyle J Cisco
He stopped just before entering the rectangle.
"Get on here," the devourer said, as he motioned next to him on the rectangle carpeting.
Virgil stepped onto the carpet with hesitation. Next thing he knew they were heading into the ceiling of the room. But before the impact the floor slid open and allowed them through. The Devourer had his hands outstretched and reaching toward the ceiling. He is powering this...thing? He wore the shock as a badge of ignorance tattooed on his forehead, as he stared in amazement at the achievement.
His attention focused back to the devourer. Now is my chance. He slammed his body into one of the guards that stood on either side of him while delivering a kick to the one on the other side. The suits of armor didn't budge. What the...oh shit. A punch came from the gilded warrior he tried to kick swung back at him. He half dodged the blow, but was now in a full nelson from the other guard.
"You, should be calm." Said the Devourer, not even turning to acknowledge what had just transpired.
Something hard hit Virgil in the back of his head. Turning out the lights on the room before him.
The room was darker then the abyss itself. The warmth of his breath could just be glimpsed with the residual light that spilled into the room from the torch in the hall. He tried to move, but was restrained by something. He swiveled his head around scanning the room, and taking in what details he could see. The room was frigid, as a draft of cold air rolled its way up his bare chest.
"Welcome, Virgil Heir of Dvorak," said a gruff voice, that came from before him.
In a brilliant flash his unadjusted eyes closed at the sight of light. Once he could see again he realized how dim the purple fires that was held by braziers scattered around the room. He looked up to see a large figure clad in black armor, the edges of which caught the purple from the flames. The figures visage covered by the beaked mask made of bronze stood before him.
"You, have seen me before? In your dreams, the ones that remind you of those you have failed already?"
Virgil's body flailed as he thrashed as hard as he could. "I...goi-"
The figure moved in a flash, as he grasped Virgil by his neck. His head pushed hard back into the wooden device he was strapped to.
"You, will beg for mercy before the end," the fire said. "My father will be avenged."
Father? Who is he talking about. "What is your name demon?"
Without response the thing laughed its gnarled voice pierced through the silence of the room. Three specters moved from the shadows between the braziers of light. Pain flared in Virgil, as he was assaulted with a round of whipping from the three Specters. His eyes gravitated to the stinging area, where the welting began around the cut in his skin from the bladed ends of the whip. Rivulets of blood formed, and began the decent down, Virgil's chilled skin. The beatings continued on and off for the next few hours.
His head lay still upon the wood, blood covered the area around his mouth where he had been punched several times. The chalk like taste of broken teeth polluted his mouth. His body covered from head to toe with the tiny knick marks from the bladed whip, and the swollen welts. The fingers on his left hand jared from there places, from where they were pulled and twisted into their current spot. His one eye opened the other blinked open about halfway due to the swelling. Mother of Light, someone help me.
Foot falls approached from behind him, and the last thing he heard was the wap of the whip contacting the skin of his chest...
16
Night had fallen over the land as Elon and the two guards that followed him made to the camp. He stood on the crest of a small hill that over looked the defenses of the camp. Rows of tents littered the ground past the makeshift palisade wall that surrounded the entire camp. In his mind he applauded the efforts of those who he had sent to make the camp ready for their arrival. They began their descent down the hill toward the camp.
"Halt, in the name of the Order of Dvorak," said the guard at the gate of the camp.
"I am Executor Evon Krich, we are the sole remains few from the fortress of light."
Upon closer inspection the man let the three men into the camp. Evon and his two guards moved with a fury toward the command tent that backed up to the beginning of the woods. As they walked through the camp they drew the eyes of all those who sat around fires drinking and eating. The few that recognized Elon stood at attention as he passed but said nothing to them.
"Whys every one starin at us?" Hammel asked, he was the larger of the two men.
"Because we look like we have come back from the abyss itself," said Thingol.
"We, have come from the jaws of the abyss. You two are the sole survivors of your company of men," Elon added to the conversation.
They were within sight of the command tent when they were cut off by a group of men that barred their entrance on to the path leading to tent.
"Lord Castellano is not taking visitors right now," the middle guard said.
"He will for me," Evon said as he pushed past the men.
The men backed up and grabbed the hilt of their swords but before anything happened the two men at Evon's side had their blades at the necks of the Castellano guards neck.
"You, would pull a sword on the Executor of the Order your house is vassal to?" Hammel said, as he pushed the sword into the man's neck causing a rivulet of blood to form.
"We...we had no idea Executor," they said in unison as they bowed before EVon in forgiveness.
"Take me to the command tent now!" Said Evon.
" They are holding a war council meeting as we speak, Lord Castellano thought you were dead. He's trying to disband the army, and go home."
Even set off up the path with vengeance in each step. That fat bastard will not dissolve this army while I still breath. He burst through the flap of the tent. All the heads in the room turning to see who had entered. A cheer spread across those of the order. Hhis eyes scanned the room, and found his mark.
"You, would dissolve this army for what reason, Lord Castellano?" asked Evon, as he slammed his gauntlets onto the table before them. The blood covered metal stained the table with some of the undried blood.
"It will be suicide to stand before an army of this size High Executor."
"Says the man that shorted us on men and supplies you had sworn to us in times like these. You, are relieved of command and hereby arrested for treason against the Order of Light," said Evon.
Upon hearing the command no one moved toward the bigger man, but rather moved away from him. Not until Marshall Stoyan Khomiakov, stood from the table. The man was an imposing figure that stood about six feet tall, and hefted his great-sword, and approached Lord Castellano.
"Stoyan, please you know me? Would have I ever betrayed you or the order before?" Said the fat man as he backed away from the Marshal.
"What matters is the actions you have take this night," Stoyan replied.
"Stoyan, lower your weapon," said Evon. "He is not worth the bloodshed. We, have seen enough of that this day."
Stoyan sheathed his blade on command by the Executor, but did not budge still bearing down on the traitor. Guards now flanked the man on either side. Nervoulsy Lord Castellano reached for the dagger on his hip but before he could reach it Stoyan, had already landed a punch that sent the man unconscious into the ground. The guards dragged the man from the tent, leaving all in the presence of Evon in silence.
"I, will not tollerate blind ambition. We are not the other Kingdoms of Men, dammit. We, are the sworn to protect the world of men. You all joined the Covenant of Man, knowing this mission, the obligations it held," Evon said, as he made himself clear to the vassal Lords that surrounded him. "Now, we, have a war to plan for..."
Torch light trickled out from the gap in the bottom of the tent flaps it had been lit since sundown, and the return of the Executor. Since his arrival all the vassal lords and commanders have been in the tent. A lone man walked up the path to the command tent.
Evon spun at the gust of wind that po
ured into the tent as the flap opened. Holy shit. They're alive! He flashed across the tents interior toward the visitor.
"Captain Deater, we are most happy to see you. How did your men fair, and where is High Chaplain Virgil?" asked Evon.
"We, should talk alone, Executor," said Deater.
His eyes scanned the room as the vassal lords looked back. The questioning looks told of the uncertainty.
"Leave us," said Evon, as he waited for the vassal lords to leave. "Marshal, I would have you stay."
The tent was empty but for the three men.
"Deater, start talking," Evon Commanded.
"Sir, the traitor is dead, but... we lost, Virgil, to the enemy, and the Devourer Of Realms has been awoken." Deater said, as he stood tall to Evon's intimidating manner.
"Where are the others?" Evon said, his fists clinched at his side.
"They... are ..." Deater began.
"Out with it!"
"They are going to rescue him," said Deater, as he released a breath of air he'd been holding.
Evon circled the captain taking measure of the man, before responding.
"Why then did, you, not accompany them?" said Evon.
The Marshal stood like a brick wall, as he watched the interrogation unfolding.
Evon waited with measured patience, as he could see the frustration on Capt. Deater's face as he thought through why he had not joined them. His ears heard the creaking of the forest to their backs, due to the intense silence in the tent. To the front of him he heard the clanking of bowls and horns of ale being brought together in cheers.
"I do not know, Executor," Deater finally broke the silence of the tent. "It seemed a fools quest, we, surely would have died."
"So leave it to the women then? No, you, will get your ass back out there, with your men and find them," Evon said.
"As you command," Deater replied, as he took a knee in recognition of his post.
"And, Captain. Bring them back alive. We, shall meet you there," said Evon. "Just look to the north. And on the sixth day we shall be there."
Evon clasped him on the shoulder in a sign of brotherhood, and the two men parted ways. Which left just the Marshal, and Evon in the tent now. He moved over toward the table that bore the map of the region. A black wooden figure stood upon the fortress of light on the map.
"What am I to do, Stoyan?" asked Evon.
"That decision rests not in my hands Executor but in your alone," Stoyan replied, and bowed to Evon.
"We, have known each other to long for such formalities my friend. I remember training you as a lad. Taught, you, how to hold that behemoth sword at your back."
"Then, I shall tell you what you need to hear. We, need Virgil. He alone bears the strength to end the darkness."
"Then, that is our course. We, retake the Fortress of Light, and then invade the Shadow Kingdom to get him. Thank you Stoyan," said Evon, as he waved the man away, and returned his gaze to the table which lay in front of him. Were coming, Virgil, just hold on...
17
Natasha crept atop one of the higher standing rock faces around them, and she gazed across the grey surroundings that spread in all direction for miles. The labyrinth of razor sharp rocks before them spread in all directions before them.
"Can you see the end of this endless maze of rock?" asked Laura.
"No, the rocks in that direction are blocking my view of beyond them," Natasha said, form above.
She repelled down the fat she had climbed in the flash of an eye, and continued on without saying another word. She could feel eyes at her back, turning to see that Laura's vision was directed to the ground she scanned the rocks to their rear. A glimpse of movement from an out cropping to the right of her caught her attention. Then movement from behind her started again, this time catching Laura's untrained attention as well.
Several large men bolted toward them from the rocks surrounding them. In a flash of movement Natasha Already brought the sight of her crossbow hovering over one of their chests. A gentle squeeze and the bolt flew across the distance, burying itself deep into the fur clad chest of the man. But they were on them now she dropped the crossbow as she disconnected the sling it was attached to and drew upon her blades. She danced through the foes, wrecking havoc upon those who were unfortunate to meet her blades.
A glance to her left, and she saw the same with Laura, as she wielded her mace to deadly effect against the lightly armored foes. The men that faced them were armed with makeshift weapons of various design and craftsmanship. Some only wielded clubs and other blunt weapons where other bore swords of ancient design rusted things passed down for generations.
It made no difference to the two women that stood before the onslaught of these brutal hillmen. Without warning the battle stopped as bodies lay twitching on the ground and the moans of still dying men could be heard. The rest of the foes drew back into the cover of the rocks.
Then a lone man, appeared upon one of the taller rocks overlooking where the combat had taken place.
"Who, dare enter the lands of the Ashanti Tribe?" The man asked.
Natasha's jaw opened wide in surprise of the mans ability to speak in the common tongue.
"Those who seek to destroy the darkness that lingers in these lands," said Laura, before Natasha could recover from the shock enough to speak.
"You, have bested many of my warri-"
"They, sought to kill us. We, reacted in kind," Laura responded.
"We, only seek passage out to the plains beyond the maze of rocks," Natasha said.
The man stood silent for a moment then called another man up to him. The two discussed something at length before responding back to the request.
"We, can help you in this. If you let my warriors accompany you to the black tower?" Asked the man.
"This we can do," Laura said, without consulting Natasha.
"Not, before we know, who it is we are dealing with. Give us your name warrior?" Natasha added.
The man stood for another moment ion contemplation of the question then in a motion his men returned their weapons to their harnesses.
"I am, Hargoth, Chieftain of the Ashanti tribe," Hargoth said, as he knelt to them in a gesture of welcoming. "And who, may you be?"
"I am Natasha Romansky, Ranger of the Order of Dvorak. And this is my companion Sister Laura, Commander of the battle sisters of our Order."
The man wore a questioning look on his face as he absorbed the information.
"What has brought you to these dark lands?" Hargoth asked.
"Why, are you so interested in helping us?" asked Natasha, as she ignored Hargoth's question.
"Natasha, please let-"
"We, of the Ashanti tribe bear no loyalty to the dark masters that rule these lands. Our, people have fought for generation against the evil that continues to spread here." Hargoth leapt from the rock on which he stood, and landed in front of the two women. "We, are all that remains from the times before the darkness spread. Descendants of a time of peace in this land."
"You, are the remnants of the Kingdom of Scrimbor?" asked Laura. "They, were said to have died out hundreds of yeas ago."
"There are some that remained," Hargoth said, as his hand passed over the men standing around them. "There were once other factions left but they died out in the long Civil war, we, have been fighting since the fall of our native homeland."
"Laura, we must keep moving if we are to make it to the spire. We, must not linger. Not, while Virgil's life is on the line."
"We, will lead you to where you need to go, and accompany you to the black tower," said Hargoth, as he whistled and his men formed into a tight formation that spoke to their discipline. For being a rabble of poorly armed men.
The group headed off to the west, and within a half-hour or so reached the end of the maze of rocks. Natasha looked over the desolate plain before them. The ground bore cracks as though it had not seen water for years. The flatness of the land was worrying to her, as they would have n
o cover to hid from patrols, or other dangers in the open.
Hargoth stood next to Natasha, as she continued to think through the difficulties this terrain would cause them. Now with the group they moved with growing in size from two to about thirty fighting men.
"What worries you lady Romansky?" Hargoth asked.
"Call me Natasha, please I am not a noble lady." She said, before answering the question. "The ground being so flat and sparse of life will make traveling with so many difficult to stay hidden."
"We, are not traveling the surface, Natasha," Hargoth said. "A vast tunnel network lies below these plains."
Natasha thought back to the Necromancer Isles and the network of tunnels that had been used by the thralls to ambush them on the steppes were their camp had been. It appealed to her sense of going in as quiet as possible.
"What lie in those tunnels, and how far will they get us?" She asked.
"Far enough to make it to the outskirts of the black spire. From there we will ned to traverse the swamp that now surrounds the citadel." Hargoth said. "The tunnels are going to be the easy part its making it through the swamp and ruins of the ancient city, that will be our challenge to face. Shall we get moving?"
Natasha nodded her head and followed the group of Hargoth's men, as they found the entrance to the tunnel network. A large boulder sat to the left of the exit from the labyrinth, that lead under the ground through a small fissure. The tunnel was advanced for the manner in which it had been created. Makeshift steps and hand holds lead the way down into the caverns below.
Sun gleamed through periodic openings in the top of the cavern that lead to the desolate plains that lay above them. Their pace lasted for most of the day before they reached the first of the waypoints Hargoth had mentioned. It was a structure that provided cover from the debris that fallen from the cavern ceiling in random patterns littering the ground with broken rocks and a thick layer of dust that covered most of the cavern floor.
She looked over her shoulder upon the arrival to the way point noticing that Laura was still locked in conversation with Hargoth, and the man Natasha had pointed out as Hargoth's second in command. The man was tall and bore a great spear in the clutches of his right hand. The scar that marked the left side of his face, flowed from the mans scalp to his jaw line. Natasha approached the man.