Ferral's Deathmarch Army

by Tod Langley

30

  Sacrifice

  Priests dragged Allisia into Ferral’s audience chamber. Other prisoners were now tied to the same columns used to hold her. The tortured prisoners had no spirit left in them; they had become used to their torment and stood silent, heads bowed in submission. The bones of the mad man’s victims still decorated the throne and even more heads filled the pile behind the great chair. The smell of rotting flesh permeated the room and Allisia vomited.

  Ferral sat in his chair taking a glass of wine from his favorite dead servant, Julia. His eyes glowed with hatred underneath a sagging brow, but his expression was slack and his skin looked mottled. The sorcerer’s head and his shoulders slumped forward, too heavy for the weakened man to hold upright.

  The price for his powers is too great, Allisia realized. Will I become like that? she asked herself.

  Ferral smiled maliciously at Allisia when the acolytes brought her before him. “You have caused me much pain. Much pain. I thought about sacrificing you, but then said to myself … isn’t that what everyone does in these situations? So I thought I could throw you to the creatures that used to torment you in your cell. And I thought, no, that would be boring. I’ve already watched that a hundred times.” Ferral indicated the listless prisoners that filled the room.

  “And then, I had a brilliant idea!” Ferral got out of his chair and approached her. Allisia tried to back away but the guards held her in place. Ferral trailed a finger down her cheek. “How could I hurt you the most, Allisia? I mean, you have already hurt me. You have refused my love, my gifts. You stabbed me.” His mood turned darker with every word.

  Ferral shouted, “You stabbed me!” He slapped her hard across the face. Allisia gasped in pain.

  “So, Allisia, what can I do to you to make you feel the pain that I have felt?” Ferral asked her.

  “Torturing me is not going to give you any satisfaction, Ferral,” Allisia said in defiance. “I have already faced you and all of your horrors. There is nothing you can do to me that will make me fear you any longer.”

  Ferral smiled at her. “We shall see.” He ran his fingers through her hair looking her over. “This will not do, even I have standards. Make sure she is cleaned and then take her to the altar room up in the tower. We will make love once before you make your journey.” He handed his empty cup back to Julia.

  Then Allisia knew what he planned to do. She gasped. She had resolved herself to face death, she had even tried to prepare herself for torture, but Allisia had blocked out the possibility that he might make her like Julia. She shook her head desperately denying the truth and losing hope altogether.

  “It would probably be better to bed you after you are like her,” Ferral pointed at the raven haired servant girl, “but I know it won’t be as much fun.” He laughed as they took her out of the room.

  Allisia lay naked, strapped to a cold slab of marble. She quickly lost any notion of modesty. Men had come in and out of the room several times. Then Ferral brought in Julia and told her to stand next to Allisia. The mad man tormented Allisia by showing her what he intended to make her into.

  Julia stood there motionless, staring at nothing. Allisia tried to talk to her.

  “What is your name?” Allisia asked, her voice wavering. The dead girl did not respond. She just continued staring at nothing.

  Suddenly, images of Julia being murdered and transformed by Ferral entered Allisia’s mind. She saw her life then and how happy Julia had been.

  “Her name was Julia,” the ghost voice told Allisia.

  Allisia also knew that Julia’s fiancé had never stopped loving her, and that he had never stopped searching for those responsible for his loss. The man was an angel of death.

  Allisia smiled and calmed herself.

  What will happen to me? Allisia asked the voice.

  The ghosts, or angels, as Allisia began to think of them, did not answer her. Instead, more images charged her senses. She saw Ferral in the next room, kneeling on carpets and chanting along with his main priest, Orolien. Ferral wore a black and red robe. He bent over, touching his head to the floor several times. Then Ferral picked up something next to him. He lifted a ceremonial dagger up and admired it. The dagger was made of bone, with gold and jewels encrusted within its hilt. The sorcerer brought it to his lips, kissing the dagger gently, and then thrust it out in front of him with his right hand. Ferral laughed cruelly while Orolien continued chanting and bowing to his master.

  Allisia’s eyes narrowed in hatred, but then another image assaulted her. She saw four small fishing boats, next to a ruined tower and bay. I know that place, I’ve seen it!

  The princess watched men get out of the boat and climb into the broken tower. The image followed them into the tunnel, the crypt, and back out into the street. They moved swiftly, but with care, as if they did not want to be discovered.

  Please let it be Kristian, Allisia prayed.

  She lay there for a long time before a file of men entered the room. They were dressed in red and black robes. Ferral’s priests started chanting and swaying, praying to Belatarn. This continued for several long minutes before Ferral and Orolien entered and the lesser priests fell to the floor prostrating themselves before the sorcerer-king.

  Ferral brought several vials and bowls over to the small table next to her. He then laid the bone dagger with great care on the table next to an open scroll. The sorcerer examined the scroll for a minute, nodding to himself several times, and then clapped his hands. Ferral smiled at Allisia, enjoying the moment.

  He ran a hand down her body, tracing her breasts, and then stopped to tickle her ribs. The sorcerer laughed.

  “Don’t worry, Allisia, they say the first time always hurts. But isn’t there always a little pain with pleasure?” Ferral had Julia move to an alcove and his priests come to assist him. “Spread her legs apart and hold her down. I don’t want her trying to bite me or anything.” Ferral rubbed his hands together, taking great pleasure in Allisia’s situation.

  “Who would have thought that I would ever get you back?” Ferral asked, extremely pleased by his good fortune.

  “They’re here. They’re coming. Hold on!” the whisper in her head told Allisia. “Stay calm. Everything will be alright.” Nothing could hold back her scream as the men pulled her legs apart. Allisia fought them as hard as she could, but in the end, Allisia knew that she was defeated. This vile man would rape her and make her serve him, forever. Allisia jerked one leg free and kicked a priest in the face when he got too close. They soon had her pinned down again.

  Allisia screamed.

  “I love a fiery woman,” Ferral said as he began to disrobe.

  “No!” Allisia shouted several times until her throat became raw. Just as Ferral began to undo his trousers the door to the chamber burst open.

  Cairn, Mikhal, and then Kristian stumbled into the room.

  “Allisia!” Kristian shouted.

  When Kristian heard Allisia’s scream, they were on an upper floor having searched almost the entire palace. The cry came from a chamber at the far end of the corridor. At the same time that they burst into the chamber, the guards had caught back up to them. By now the guards had opened the gate on the inner wall and a hundred more soldiers raced to protect their king.

  Kristian heard the screams and shouts of the Belarnians echoing up from the lower levels of the palace. They were fighting some of the dead that lingered on the lower levels, searching for the living.

  “More guards are coming,” Balhir warned from outside the door.

  Kristian feared the rescue was for nothing. He resolved himself that if they were all going to die, he was going to make sure the sorcerer-king died first.

  Ferral cursed and stumbled away from the altar, confused and shocked by the presence of Kristian.

  “How did you …”

  Ferral realized his predicament and shouted at his priests, “Kill them!” The robed fanatics pulled daggers free from sheaths
that hung from their necks, shouted prayers to their dark god, and rushed the intruders.

  The three rescuers were bruised, cut, and near exhaustion, but when Kristian saw Allisia he regained all of his energy. He and his companions charged the priests, swinging their bloody swords with all the pent up passion and frustration of the long months of their quest.

  Cairn cut two of them down in the first seconds. Kristian killed one of the priests, and side-stepped the dagger thrust of another, but the priests soon had them surrounded. Many more priests stood between them and Ferral.

  Mikhal parried the blow of a Belarnian guard with a long pike. The cavalier grabbed hold of the weapon just under the sharp point and swung down with all of his strength. His sword shattered the pole and bit deep into the man’s head. Then other Belarnian guards charged into the room from a side door to reinforce the priests.

  “They’re bypassing us through another chamber,” Balhir shouted.

  “Get in here,” Kristian ordered the remaining members of his party.

  Ferral laughed. “This could not be better if I had planned it. Thank you, Kristian, for saving me the effort of hunting you down. I lost you in the woods. I don’t know how you got here so quickly, but I will soon be rid of you and your friends.”

  Just as the Belarnians charged to finish off Kristian and his friends, arrows began flying into the priests and guards nearest the open door. Hin’cabo and Vi-tonia’s hunters loosed arrow after arrow at the attackers. Then Vi-tonia stepped into the room brandishing her curved blade.

  Orolien came after her with his knife, thinking she would be easier to kill, but she cut him down in a reflection of Cairn’s efficiency. The skulking priest lay at her feet with a long gash splitting his face in two. Soon the odds began to favor the rescuers. They fought with renewed strength against the remaining guards. One of the Belarnians shouted for help and ten more armed men entered the room.

  Iohn and Pak rushed in to protect their princess. Having expended all of their arrows they drew their short swords and went to work. Both bore cuts and bruises, but protected Vi-tonia fiercely, though it looked like she fared better than her men.

  The remainder of Balhir’s men entered the room then. Only four of them lived, including Balhir. Maurin came in last, watching the rear for other enemies, holding a long dagger in his hand.

  Ferral was dismayed and filled with hatred. There was fighting all around him. His guards were unable to get beyond the Holtsmen blocking the narrow doors and his protectors were quickly losing their will to fight. He called upon his own powers to aid him. He began to chant, summoning the demon to him. By the time he ended his chant the remainder of his priests and guards were dead or wounded.

  “Get up you fools,” Ferral snarled at the dead priests and guards. They struggled to stand, arms and legs quivering after their unholy resurrection. Iohn, Pak, and the Holtsmen were upon them before they could stand. They cut off heads, legs, and arms so that none could stand.

  Vi-tonia helped them by decapitating the priest that had attacked her earlier. She finished the task, stepped back, and then vomited.

  They stood there for a few minutes to catch their breath and ensure that no others were approaching from outside the chamber.

  Kristian and his companions stepped toward the sorcerer with caution, fearful of a last minute trick. Ferral looked beyond them seeking a way to escape, but the Holtsmen still blocked both doorways. He began to back away from Kristian and Mikhal, grabbing the bone dagger from the table next to Allisia as he did so.

  “You’ll not have her, Erandian scum,” he growled. Ferral raised the dagger hoping to scare them enough to buy some time.

  Cairn, the closest to Ferral, knew he could easily reach the sorcerer before the mad man could do Allisia any harm. The sword master moved slightly to his left, preparing to launch himself. Ferral looked at each of his attackers frantically, wondering which one might strike at him first. A revelation must have come to Ferral then. He stopped and looked directly at Cairn. Recognition slowly came to Ferral as he stared in wonder at the sword master’s scarred face.

  “You?” Ferral asked, surprised. Cairn stopped a few steps away, momentarily confused.

  Ferral flicked his wrist and pointed at Cairn. There was a hint of movement from an alcove. A blurred shape flew past Kristian and Mikhal and attacked Cairn. The flash of a blade came down from a small hand hitting the sword master solidly in the back. The attacker’s momentum took them both to the ground. Vi-tonia shouted in dismay rushing to Cairn’s aid.

  Everyone stared in amazement at the woman with black hair who lay over the top of Cairn, she held on to the handle of a dagger stuck in Cairn’s back.

  Then the demon came to answer Ferral’s plea for help, its monstrous form crashing through the window. It stood, stretching its arms and back, howling, before moving to the sorcerer’s side.

  Kristian had thought that they might win for a moment—that they had defeated Ferral, but that hope fled now. Fear overpowered each of them as the demon stared at the rescuers with deep hatred. They all took a few steps back, even Kristian, until he saw Allisia lying helpless, bound and naked on the altar. Kristian started to approach Ferral again.

  The demon snarled at him, jumping between the two kings. There was a moment of eerie silence, and then Ferral’s laughter filled the room.

  Cairn’s back felt numb, but he was fortunate. The blade glanced off his shoulder and did not go as deep as it could have. He winced at the pain in his back trying to figure out what happened. Cairn looked at the person lying next to him and his world came to an abrupt halt.

  The servant girl had pale skin, long hair the color of a raven’s wings, and eyes of the deepest blue. Cairn gulped in deep breaths trying to comprehend what he saw.

  “Julia?” She lay there, looking up at the ceiling. Cairn crawled over next to her to see if she was hurt. “Julia, it’s me, Cairn.” Nothing seemed to register.

  Then Julia repeated her mantra, “Kill me … Kill me.” Cairn was confused and shocked. She is alive after all this time? Why is she here? Why did she attack me? What trick of Ferral’s is this? Cairn looked into his lover’s eyes and saw no life in them.

  Cairn began to weep. “Why?”

  “Because, Cairn. That is your name isn’t it? Just because.” It was Ferral that answered his question. Through watery eyes, Cairn looked at the sorcerer in dismay. “Those are nice scars you have there. Garnis and his men were pretty rough on you.”

  Images of fire and death raced through Cairn’s mind. He looked at Julia lying next to him.

  “Kill me,” Julia continued to plead in a monotone voice. The full reality of what happened on that day so many years ago surged through Cairn.

  Ferral was the one that had led the attack against Cairn’s village. This was the man that had left him alive but near death. And this was the man that had taken Julia away from him. Worse than that, Ferral had used Julia even after death. He violated her spirit by holding her captive in a beautiful, yet broken shell.

  “This has turned out to be the best possible reunion that I could ever have hoped for,” Ferral said with confidence. Now that the demon had arrived they could do nothing to him. “Yes, Kristian, I was going to do what you’ve only dreamed of and take Allisia for myself. But now I am completely exhausted and she will die with you.” Ferral casually stepped toward the princess.

  “You will all die, just like your miserable excuse for an army.” Ferral paused to focus back on Cairn. “And then there is the matter of these two lovers. I should have let Garnis kill you along with the rest of your neighbors. I thought it would be fun to spare your life. I often wondered what became of you and what you would do with the remainder of your life. Now I know and I must say I am impressed.”

  Cairn shook his head in disbelief. He could not comprehend how evil a man had to be to conjure up such terrible schemes. Cairn started to feel the throbbing from the wound in his shoulder. He pull
ed himself across the floor to his love and knelt over Julia’s limp form. His tears fell onto her face.

  “Kill me,” Julia said.

  “I never even knew you. She never knew you. Why did you do this to us?” Cairn cried out.

  “She knew more than you think, Cairn. If it is any consolation, I never meant for her to die. I meant for the rest of you to die, but not Julia. I thought she was beautiful. Beautiful enough that she should be spared, but things didn’t happen the way I intended,” Ferral said, frowning as he remembered his plans that day.

  Then the sorcerer-king laughed. “I honestly don’t think there could be a better ending to all of my troubles than this. The man responsible for the deaths of my most loyal guards is helpless at my feet, crying like a baby. My enemies are gathered in one place, tired, battered, bloody, and ready to die for their cause. And I just happen to have my demon with me,” Ferral snickered.

  “Please, just leave her alone,” Cairn begged.

  “I can’t do that. I’ve never understood how she was sometimes able to call out your name. I’m jealous and can’t stand the thought of her choosing you over me.” Ferral whispered something, and then he snapped his fingers.

  Julia’s body became rigid. Re-animated with life she felt the stab wound she received the night Ferral used her as a shield against Derout’s attack. Blood began to soak her dress.

  Julia looked around her in panic, wondering what had happened and where she was. Then she remembered.

  Cairn cried with her as she began to fade again. He held her head in his lap looking into her eyes. She could sense his presence and tried to smile but could not—there had been too much sorrow. Julia weakly reached a hand up to touch his face. There was one light touch on her love’s scarred cheek, and then her hand fell back down.

  “Cairn?” Julia asked frightened.

  “I’m here, Julia,” Cairn said through gasps of pain and sorrow.

  Julia tried to smile but it faded quickly from her face. A small sigh escaped her lips and then Julia died. Cairn buried his head in her hair and wept.

  Ferral laughed, clapping his hands.

  Cairn immediately stopped crying, his eyes narrowing to murderous slits. He sprang up from his lover’s side full of vengeance. Cairn’s scream of hatred was incoherent. He moved faster than even the demon could react. The monster swatted at him, but missed. Cairn rolled under the sharp claws and jumped up next to Ferral. His blade came down in a blur of motion, a stroke that would surely have cut Ferral in half.

  The demon pulled the sorcerer back at the last possible moment. Cairn’s blade missed his head but cut through the wrist that held the bone dagger. The severed hand fell to the floor, still clutching the sacrificial knife.

  Ferral screamed in pain, falling to the floor as the demon let go of him. The monster struck Cairn so hard that it sent him flying across the chamber. He smashed into the wall and fell to the floor in a heap.

  After Cairn’s courageous act, the others were released from the demon’s spell. Vi-tonia darted in to hack at the demon’s abdomen. The only thing that saved her from being ripped apart was the sacrifice of her guards.

  Iohn and Pak attacked simultaneously. Their short swords did no damage, but their distraction allowed their princess to move to safety. The demon tore Iohn’s throat out with one swipe and then crushed Pak’s skull.

  Kristian moved around the monster to Allisia’s side. He stepped between her and the demon, cutting the cords that bound her. His legs and arms shook badly from the continued fighting. Kristian had little strength left and relied solely upon his resolve to see Allisia safe. Even though Kristian had found Allisia, it did not look like either of them would survive.

  “I’m sorry, Allisia. I’ve failed,” Kristian told her.

  The monster continued to roar in fury. A Holtsman jabbed at it with his sword. The demon jumped on him, tearing him apart in a matter of seconds. Everyone tried to kill the demon, but nothing worked.

  It started to move back toward Kristian intent on killing him and Allisia. It moved past Ferral who sat there staring at his bloody stump. Just as it reached out to grab Kristian, Mikhal jumped on it from behind.

  The monster reached behind it and picked him off of its back with ease. It looked at him for a moment, some form of recognition entering its dark mind. Its snarl vanished and the monster said something so garbled by its thick tongue that no one could understand it. It repeated the accusation, waiting for Mikhal to respond.

  Mikhal struggled to get free of its grasp, but could not. Then Balhir chopped at the demon’s back with an axe. The creature screamed in fury. It threw Mikhal to the floor and backhanded Balhir, knocking him down with a glancing blow. The monster heard Mikhal cry out in pain as he hit the marble surface and it paused, looking confused and concerned. The monster started looking around as if dazed.

  “Come to me,” Ferral called out weakly. “Come to me.” He clutched at his wrist trying in vain to make the bleeding stop.

  “Save me,” Ferral pleaded to the demon. It scooped Ferral up and jumped out the window into the night.

  Ferral’s voice trailed out behind the two as they left. “This is only the beginning. I will rock the foundations of this world …”