Asgoleth The Warrior: A Modern Tale of Sword And Sorcery (fantasy fiction books)

by Kirkwood, Bill

  He pushed such thoughts from his mind; he had to concentrate on the business at hand. Under his skilful fingers the hidden projections that operated the lock slid back and he pushed the door open a crack. Peering through into the garden beyond he saw no sign of life or movement. A breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees with a soft sighing but otherwise all was silent.

  He slipped through the gate, closing it silently behind him, and then sprinted towards a statue of Solus. He crouched at the base of the statue and looked all around him but he could see nothing and there was no cry of alarm from sentries, so far so good.

  He pushed the statues foot and the base swiveled open to reveal a narrow set of stone steps which disappeared into a deep dark hole in the ground. With a last swift look around, he slid down into the blackness and the base swiveled back into place above him. He was in pitch darkness now but he needed no light to find his way through that passageway. Unerringly he followed its twists and turns until he finally reached the secret entrance to Amira’s chambers.

  In the darkness he listened but he could detect no sound from within. Cautiously he slid the panel open and peered in. The room was in darkness but silvery moonlight gave enough illumination for his wilderness bred eyes to detect the slim female form that lay upon the bed. Grinning he stalked silently forward.

  He placed a strong hand over her mouth to stifle any cry she might make then a snarl twisted his lips. This girl was not Amira. The girl’s eyes were wide with terror as he leaned close and whispered,

  ‘Make any noise and you die, do you understand?’

  She nodded and he slowly removed his hand, ready to slap it back into place at the first sign of treachery. The girl remained silent, gazing at him with wide frightened eyes.

  ‘Who are you and where is the princess Amira?’

  ‘My name is Alana, great warrior. I was placed here by Lord Demos to act as bait. Flee swiftly warrior for Demos controls me with his sorcery. He sees what I see and hears what I hear. Go now before it is too late.’

  For a long tense moment he glared into her eyes and in them he could see a faint red flicker and then the door crashed open. He whirled, sword rising to meet the Akonite warriors who came charging into the room; behind them, in the corridor beyond, stood a tall, dark, bearded man, Demos himself. He was screaming to his soldiers,

  ‘Kill the dog, a bag of gold to the man who brings him down.’

  The men rushed forward eagerly, they were six to his one and they were confident that the gold would soon be theirs. They reckoned without Asgoleth’s barbarian ferocity. His wild, bloodcurdling war cry filled the chamber as he leapt to meet them. Two fell choking on their blood as his great blade drank their lives. The remaining four, taken aback by this madman’s assault, froze momentarily. It was enough for in that moment he was among them and he was like a wolf among a flock of sheep.

  In the close confines of the doorway they got in each other’s way but Asgoleth was not hampered by fear of killing a comrade and his blade smashed forward and impaled one of the Akonites. The warrior behind expected Asgoleth to take time to pull his blade free and he grinned cruelly as he raised his sword. Before this barbarian pig could wrench his sword free he would be dead.

  Asgoleth did not give him time to bring his weapon down. He simply let go of the hilt of his own weapon and smashed his iron hard fist into the others face. Bones crunched under that terrible impact and were driven deep into the man’s brain, killing him instantly. The warriors face dissolved into red ruin and he slumped to the floor.

  As the man fell, Agoleth pressed home his attack by reaching out and grabbing the helmeted heads of the two remaining soldiers. Their helmets rang as they were smashed together and they too fell, leaving Asgoleth and Demos face to face.

  Demos snarled in fury and lashed out with his jeweled sword and only the Calthians swift backwards leap saved his life. The point of the blade sliced through his tunic and opened a slit in the skin of his chest and Asgoleth cursed.

  Demos laughed and cried out,

  ‘Now you will die for your foolish attempt to rescue the princess you dog.’

  He lunged at the barbarian but Asgoleth rolled aside, drawing his dagger as he did so. The off-balance tyrant’s eyes opened wide in horror as he saw the dagger slicing up at him. He threw himself desperately aside and cried out in pain and fury as the blade buried itself in his thigh.

  Asgoleth sprang to his feet and swiftly retrieved his sword. He glared down at the squirming Demos who snarled in disbelief as he saw death towering above him.

  The sound of running feet reached their ears and Demos yelled,

  ‘Guards, guards, to me, I am beset!’

  Asgoleth snarled and took a step forward, about to strike and the tyrant flinched back in fear. Was this how his dreams of empire were going to end, snuffed out by a blow from a barbarians sword? He sagged back in relief as Asgoleth turned and headed for the door. The Akonites were almost upon him and he knew that they would bring him down by weight of numbers if he stayed. Dead, he would be of no use to Amira, there would be another time.

  He turned his gaze upon Demos and growled,

  ‘I will return you dog and if you have harmed Amira your death will not be quick.’

  With that he turned and glided out of the room, away from the advancing soldiers. Behind him he could hear the shouts and yells of his pursuers and above it all the outraged voice of Demos screaming with fury.

  ‘I want that barbarians head! Do not let him escape if you value your lives.’

  Asgoleth’s long legs allowed him to outdistance the Akonites but he knew he could not evade them forever. He had to get out of the palace, the place was a warren and it was full of Akonites. Then he heard the brazen notes of a horn sounding the alarm. Every soldier in the city would be after him soon.

  He pounded along the corridor, his eyes searching for the entrance to one of the secret passages that riddled the palace. At last he saw one of the statues of Solus that marked such an entrance and he increased his pace.

  He was almost there when three burly Akonites came out of a side room. When they saw the savage, bloodstained figure of Asgoleth charging towards them they yelled and raised their blades. Such was the Calthian's speed that he was upon them in an instant. His blade licked out and the foremost of the warriors went down, his head almost severed. Blood sprayed over his companions and Asgoleth. A second soldier aimed a vicious stroke but the maddened barbarian slashed upwards and the blade sliced the man’s hand off at the wrist. Hand and sword flew into the air and blood jetted from the stump as the man fell back, screaming in shock and pain.

  The third Akonite leapt to the attack and as the two battled Asgoleth could hear the sounds of others drawing nearer. The surviving Akonite heard them too and he grinned coldly. Asgoleth snarled and lunged forward with all of his mighty strength behind his stroke. His steel smashed his opponents guard aside and crunched through breastplate and heart, bringing the fight to an abrupt end.

  Asgoleth wrenched his blade free and hurried to the statue and pressed the hidden projections. The statue slid silently aside to reveal the welcoming gloom of the passageway beyond. He slipped inside and was just in time. Even as he heard the lock click into place the corridor beyond was filled with the sounds of many men. He grinned coldly as he listened to their bewildered shouts. By the time they had figured out what had happened he would be long gone.

  Moving swiftly and silently through the dark dusty passages he retraced his steps to the place where he had entered the palace. Slowly he slid the statue back a little and peered out into the moonlit garden. All seemed clear and he emerged and made his way quickly to the gate. Behind him the palace was in uproar but the street beyond was deserted, at least for the moment. He slipped out into the street and made his way back towards the breech in the city wall.

  Suddenly a shout rang out and he turned to see a mounted Akonite galloping towards him. Behind the horseman a squad of soldiers came running.r />
  ‘At him men!’ the mounted man cried. ‘It is the dog that injured the king.’

  Asgoleth cursed and turning, he charged straight towards the horseman bellowing his war cry as he came. The startled horse reared up, almost unseating its rider. The man had expected Asgoleth to run, not turn and attack and he was stunned with surprise. Asgoleth easily avoided his foes clumsy sword stroke and thrust his own blade upwards into the man’s side. The warrior cried out and fell from the saddle and Asgoleth took his place. The horse reared but Asgoleth savagely yanked on the reins and the beast subsided, recognising its new master.

  The pursuing soldiers were almost upon him when he remembered the bag of stolen loot he had taken from the robber. He unslung it and lobbed it at them.

  ‘Here dogs, a gift from Asgoleth of Calthia.’

  As it flew through the air its contents fell, sparkling and tinkling to the cobbled pave. The soldiers, at sight of this unexpected wealth halted in their tracks. They looked at the tall, powerful barbarian with upraised sword ready to deal death and then at the scattered treasure at their feet. They made their choice and fell greedily upon the loot.

  Asgoleth laughed and kicking the beast’s flanks he galloped away from the scrambling Akonites. At last he reached the broken wall and urged the horse up and over the rubble. Then he was out of the city and riding like the wind.

  He cast a glance back and snarled as he thought of Amira still a prisoner. He had failed in his mission and the bitter knowledge burned his soul like acid. He would return for her, this he vowed by Ragnar. And when he did, Demos would die. He galloped away into the night and, for a time; he disappeared from the knowledge of men.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Demos winced with pain as his wounded leg reminded him of its presence. Anger burned in his heart as he thought of the barbarian who had inflicted the wound. If he ever caught the dog he would enjoy watching his slow and agonising death.

  A slight sound from behind made him turn towards the open flap of his tent and he grinned, his pain forgotten, as he beheld Amira there. Behind her stretched the bleak and arid landscape of the Blasted Land, a desolate place of death. Long ago this place had been green and fertile and then the Great Destruction had come, leaving behind it this accursed wasteland.

  He frowned as he thought of the distance he had yet to travel before he reached the hiding place of The Heart of Ra. For a week now he and his men had wound their way through this harsh and deadly land. Broiling in their armour by day and freezing by night. No sight or sound of life broke the monotony of their journey, for in all that desolation, they were the only living things.

  He knew his men feared the demons and monsters that were said to haunt the wastes and a sneer touched his lips. He knew that they feared him more and they were right to do so. His wrath would be far worse than any demons if they should fail to obey him.

  He dismissed the armed escort that had brought the princess to him and he grinned as the tent flap closed behind her. She was a lovely thing and he had taken much pleasure in exploring her sensitive mind. He delighted in watching her writhe in torment and horror at the things he showed her, the things he made her do for his amusement.

  When his eyes locked with hers she became his helpless puppet, aware of what was happening to her but powerless to stop him. Oh she fought him every time but her mind and will, though strong, were untrained and could not stand against him.

  He always won and he took a cruel pleasure in feeling her defences crumble slowly under his onslaught. So it would continue, each time she became inured to one horror he would force his will upon her and expose another level of her mind to exquisite torment. She still had so much to experience, so many levels of her mind to be stripped away. He would enjoy teaching her the true meaning of horror and when he finally tired of her? Well then, she would make a fine sacrifice to Balzar.

  That however, lay far in the future. For today she would serve to pass an hour or two. He grinned again and said,

  ‘Look into my eyes, Amira. Tell me what you see there.’

  Only a strangled gasp came from her throat as she strove to avoid his gaze and he laughed at her distress. His voice was low and compelling as he said,

  ‘Look at me, Amira, look at me.’

  Slowly her head turned and beads of sweat ran down her face as she fought against his will but it was useless, her body would not obey her and at last, with a small cry of despair upon her lips, her eyes met his.

  She gazed into his black, red flecked eyes and her remaining willpower slipped away from her. She was as helpless as a rabbit caught in the gaze of a serpent. He knew it and his mocking laughter filled the tent.

  ‘Look into my eyes, Amira. Look deep into my eyes and tell me what you see there.’

  She moaned and her eyes flew wide with horror.

  ‘I see people; no, they are not people. They are monsters, hideous monsters! Ah by mighty Solus, what blasphemies! My lord I beg you to stop this. Please I beg you!’

  Her pleas were ignored.

  ‘Tell me what they are doing, Amira’

  ‘They are dancing.’ she sobbed,’ Oh such shameful dancing.’

  ‘Can you hear the music they dance to?’

  Her body stiffened and her eyes were dilated as the ghostly music grew louder in her brain. She screamed in torment and loathing and Demos, his black eyes glittering with malice, cried out.

  ‘Dance, Amira, dance to the music for your master.’

  ‘No!’ she cried, ‘I will not dance for you. I am Amira, princess of Torr. I will not do this.’

  Demos merely grinned at her and watched as she fought with every fibre of her being to resist his will but it was no use. He was too strong for her. A moan of rage and shame escaped her as she felt her hips begin to sway. Slowly her arms rose into the air and her silken cloak fell to the soft carpet with a soft rustle.

  She stood before him now, naked save for a hands breadth of silk about her swaying hips. Gold and silver bracelets around her wrists and ankles clashed and tinkled as she began to dance to the hellish music in her mind.

  Wantonly, as abandoned as any tavern harlot, the princess swayed and leapt and gyrated before him, faster and faster until her shapely limbs were but a blur of spinning, leaping movement. Her hair whipped about her face and her body glistened with perspiration as she danced and Demos laughed as he watched her. She moaned and cried out, still fighting against his power but the demonic music held her captive. A helpless, beautiful puppet of her masters will.

  No man with red blood in his veins could have watched her dance without being inflamed by her beauty and Demos, even though he was steeped in evil, was yet a man and felt desire start to burn within him. He raised his hand and said,

  ‘Stop.’

  Instantly the music in her mind vanished and she sank, gasping, to her knees. His voice was harsh now, choked with passion as he commanded.

  ‘Crawl to me, princess. Crawl to me on your knees and beg me for my favours.’

  He watched as her body obeyed his command, relished the fear and shame burning in her desperate eyes. She reached him and her hands caressed his body hungrily. Her eyes blazed with fury and despair but her voice was no longer hers to control.

  ‘My lord, I am your slave. I beg you to use me as you will. I beg you my lord, I beg you,’

  He reached out and curled his fingers through her long dark hair. They closed cruelly and he drew her face towards his.

  His lips drew towards hers, closer and closer until he could feel her breath upon his cheek. He drank in her helpless beauty and his lips drew back in a cruel, rictus smile.

  ‘I am going to take you on a journey such as you would never have believed possible Amira. You shall suffer for my pleasure and you will beg for more. Aye, how you shall suffer.’

  His eyes glowed inhumanly red now and she shrieked with terror but still she could not summon the strength of will to escape his dominion of her. He laughed and ripped away the silk from her hips
and she moaned and cried out yet again as this inhuman thing caressed her nakedness with cruel hands.

  As he drew her down beside him she vowed to herself that this would be the last time she would suffer so at his hands. When she had control of her body back once more she would take her own life. She closed her eyes as he clutched at her body and steeled herself against the torment to come.

  A horn blared out. Again and yet again the harsh notes sounded and it was answered by the sound of voices raised in anger and alarm. Amira found herself cast aside as Demos rose cursing to his feet, pulling on his robe as he did so. He pulled aside the tent flap and demanded an explanation of the soldier who came running towards him breathlessly.

  ‘My lord, I found our sentries at the southern perimeter lying dead with their throats cut. No one saw or heard anything.’

  Demos glared angrily at the man who trembled before him and then he turned his eye upon Amira as she spat,

  ‘Perhaps you are not as mighty as you think you are you dog. There are some at least who do not fear you.’

  Demos snarled and raised his hand and a bolt of red light shot from the gem upon his finger. It struck Amira and she began to shriek as she was engulfed by that ghastly radiance. She writhed and twisted while Demos snarled at her suffering. Finally he lowered his hand and she gasped and lay still as the glow faded. He left her like that, sprawled naked and unconscious on the floor of the tent, and then turned back to the terrified soldier.

  ‘Show me.’

  He hissed and followed the man into the dark.

  The wound in his leg ached and his face was a mask of black fury as he looked down upon the bodies of the sentries. By the light of the flickering torches his men held aloft, he could see that the dead men’s swords were still in their scabbards and their spears lay beside the bodies as if gently lowered. Death had reached out and taken these two without any fuss and had then retreated back into the shadows from whence it had come.