Death Rises

by Brian Murray

  “Now it is time for you to die, brother.” The Darklord turned his attention back to his fallen brother, but . . .

  Gan-Goran felt the pain stop. He groaned, knowing this would be his only chance. He rose to his knees as quickly as he could and uttered a spell. He waited for his brother to face him. “NEVER!” he screamed.

  For the first time, the old magic-master used his anger to power his spell. Deep blue streaks leapt from his fingers and struck his brother in the chest. The Darklord was sent reeling backwards. Gan-Goran added more power to the bolts as his anger grew. The Darklord was lifted from the ground. Gan-Goran twisted his brother’s body to the left, and pushed out with his hands towards the portal. The Darklord, wrapped in stripes of dancing deep blue lightning, was sent spiralling through the portal. In that instant, the portal closed and the room was plunged into darkness. With the last of his energy, Gan-Goran raised his arm and the torches ignited.

  Still on his knees, the old man, looking anciently tired, turned towards Captain Badu. The captain had regained his feet.

  “We must hold this room,” shouted Gan-Goran hoarsely before blacking out.

  The captain nodded to him. Lifting his axe, he bellowed, “Axe-wielders, forward!”

  The fighting in the room began. Captain Badu reached the unconscious magic-master and hoisted him to his shoulder. He walked from the hall and carefully placed him onto the floor outside.

  Gan-Goran opened his eyes.

  “Is he dead?” asked Badu. Gan-Goran closed his eyes and shook his head. “Do we have to hold the room?”

  “Yes, a friend will be coming soon. Hold the room and he will come.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Gan-Goran did not answer. His eyes closed and a golden glow covered his body. The golden glow covered the captain. He felt his tiredness disappear and his wound tingled. Badu pushed his finger under the bandage wrapped around his head and felt nothing. He pulled the bandage clear and rubbed his forehead. The cut had disappeared. He looked down at the old man and saw the black smudges around his tired eyes slowly fade. The man is healing himself, thought the captain. He covered Gan-Goran with a cloak and turned. He had been asked to hold the room and he would keep his promise.

  Gan-Goran opened his eyes for a moment and whispered, “Tanas, I’ve done my part. Now bring your army.”

  ***

  Tanas, as the persona Slayer, arrived in the Dark One’s throne room in the Black Palace. He knew instantly he would have to fight his way from the palace. He split his black quarterstaff and formed two short swords. Unable to see, he paused for a moment, to feel his surroundings having been in the room thousands of times before. In the dark dank room, a crimson crystal could just be seen pulsating at the end of one hilt. The warrior closed his eyes and concentrated. He slowly opened his eyes and he was clad in his silver armour. On the front of his helm was a skull with two rubies in its eye sockets. Slayer took a deep breath and moved silently towards the double doors. He listened. He could hear the deep, rhythmical breathing of two Caynians either side of the tall black doors. He grabbed the door handles and yanked them inwards. The warrior jumped from the room, reversed his swords, and plunged them backwards into the two stunned guards. Slayer pulled his blades free from the Caynians’ hearts and they fell with two dull thuds. He crouched low and listened for any movement—there was none close by. Quickly, the warrior made his way through the palace. He reached the main doors and more of the massive Caynian warriors patrolling outside. Slayer bowed his head and took a deep, calming breath.

  The warrior stepped out and attacked. He slashed his right-hand blade through the first Caynian’s neck. Stabbing out with his other sword, he pierced the next Caynian in the chest, slicing its heart. Both fell, dead. Slayer pulled his blades free and swiftly walked forward to his next opponents. He ducked under a wild swipe, then rolled to the left as another Caynian hacked down. The warrior regained his feet and jumped into his prey. He kicked out hard and caught one of the massive warriors in the groin. The Caynian doubled over. Slayer jumped and rolled sideways over the Caynian’s broad back. He slashed out and cut through the other’s neck. Landing with his back to the injured Caynian, he sliced upwards backhanded. Life fluid pumped from the creature’s neck wound. Slayer ran forward and used both feet to kick his next foe in the chest. The Caynian was propelled back into three of his comrades. Landing softly the smaller warrior hacked, sliced, and slashed at the four fallen Caynians. They did not rise.

  Slayer crossed the wide-open ground of the courtyard. On the other side, several massive horses were tethered. Slayer ran to the mounts, jumped, and landed in a saddle. The horse reared and the warrior gripped grimly onto the horn. He reached forward and grabbed the reins. He turned the horse to gain his bearings. He wheeled the horse to the right and thundered towards the exit. Several Caynians stood on the crossing that spanned the molten lava moat. Slayer dug his heels into the sides of the stallion and urged it on. The horse bore down on the creatures and soon clattered through them. Two Caynians dived out of the way, whilst three more were cannoned into the bubbling liquid rock, which hissed as they struck. He was off. Several Caynians reached their mounts and soon gave chase.

  Slayer rode his horse hard and fast. Carrying a lighter weight, his mount opened a gap between him and his pursuers. Slayer knew at some point he would have to turn and face them. The only decision he had to make—whether to face them now or later. He decided to leave it until night.

  ***

  Night shrouded the Realm of Yallaz’oom in a sinister gloom. Slayer stopped his galloping horse, its iron shoes skidding on the crusty black soil. In a cloud of dust, he turned his stallion and charged back at his pursuers. From the sound of the pursuers, Slayer estimated there were twenty of them. Twenty Caynians raced to fight the master of death. The warrior once known as Death would face twenty Caynians and there could only be one outcome. The warrior turned his horse on a narrow path where the Caynians could only ride two abreast. On the safe side was a steep slope; on the other a sheer drop into a bottomless abyss.

  Slayer leaned in close to his horse’s neck as it thundered towards his pursuers. Around the next corner they would clash. He wrapped the reins around the saddle horn and smiled. As Tanas, he was told about a man who had performed this act before—the man, Dax, his friend. With both hands free, the horse turned the corner and faced the charging Caynians. The Caynians tried to stop their galloping mounts, but it was too late. Slayer cannoned into the first two Caynians with his sword held high, decapitating them. He rolled his wrists and stabbed the next two Caynians in the chest, piercing their life pumps. At the same time, Slayer grabbed the reins and yanked back so his horse reared. Slayer gripped on grimly with his thighs as his horse kicked out at the next two Caynians, crushing their faces. The horse landed and pulling to one side, Slayer wheeled it and galloped farther up the path. Six down.

  He stopped the horse again and turned it to face his enemies. Wrapping the reins back around the saddle horn, he waited. He heard the Caynians urging their horses on. At the last moment, Slayer dug his heels into his horse’s ribs and it lurched forward. Slayer leaned to his left and hacked at the first and second riders. The first Caynian had its head removed, the second ducked under the blade. Slayer’s horse cannoned into the first two horses on its right. On the thinner path, the two horses lost their footing and fell into the abyss. Rolling his wrist, Slayer reversed his left-hand sword and stabbed back at the Caynian, who ducked under his slash. The blade sliced under the Caynian’s skull, skewering its brain. Ten down.

  Slayer leaned back in his saddle, avoiding a murderous hack from a Caynian on his right. The smaller warrior kicked out, propelling the Caynian from its horse, and it fell screaming into the ravine. He plunged up with his left sword. The blade caught another Caynian under its jaw and smashed out through the top of its head, carving away its face. Slayer pushed his horse into the Caynians. He bent forward against his horse’s neck with his arms crossed before h
im, the blades running down his forearms. A huge broadsword whistled over his head. The warrior rose quickly and stabbed out with both swords. He buried them through the necks of two Caynians who sat alongside him, facing the other way. Up until now, his blades had not touched metal. Fourteen down.

  He reached forward for the reins and pulled so his horse started to walk backwards. He cleared the riderless horses and waited. A smile grew on his youthful face and he cocked his head to one side.

  “Don’t train you Caynians as they used too, huh? Only six left. Come and meet, Death,”

  he hissed, losing his smile, and beckoned them forward with his sword.

  One Caynian walked its horse forward, pushing two other riderless mounts off the edge of the ravine. The Caynian was huge and had a scarred, barrelled chest. The massive warrior pulled its broadsword from a harness, lifting it over its head. The Caynian levelled the immense broadsword, pointing it at Slayer, its muscles bunched. The Caynian’s horse pawed the ground impatiently. The Caynian slapped the rump of its horse and charged at Slayer. The Caynian died.

  Slayer held his outstretched arm, his blade dripping with blood. Five Caynians remained and started to back away. Slayer was going to let them go, but he thought better of it. He charged his horse into them. He slashed left, hacked right, and stabbed forward and back. Slayer turned his horse and lashed out. The head of the last seated Caynian flopped to one side, thudded against the ground once, and bounced into the abyss. Twenty Caynians pursued him; twenty Caynians met Death, twenty Caynians died.

  Slayer turned his horse and galloped away from the scene. As usual, he left a litter of bodies in his wake. He camped later that evening and thought of what he would do. It had been a long time since the man had friends. The feeling was alien to the once-man. Not liking the feelings, he allowed Tanas to have control. The young warrior felt the evil in his bleak surroundings and wished for the magic of the Rhaurien green hills. Tanas had always known his dark side existed, but he had kept it separate from his good side. He had two personas, one known as Slayer, once Death the Dark One’s champion, and the other, Tanas, the man who had lived since after the Dark Wars, after the Divine One touched him. For as long as Tanas had known, he had been different. He lived in solitude for long periods, hiding from all men, his only companion, his horse Essie. Only occasionally would he appear and help—but then would return to his hiding place in the mountains beyond Rafftonia. He had forgotten how old he was, but now he prayed for mortality. Everyone he had known had died while he lived.

  Something had called the man and he had emerged from his hiding place to travel to the Kingdom. He had been glad, for he had met some good people. He thought of his mentor, Dax. A thought sparked in his mind and he shook his head. “No, I would not like to fight him,” whispered Tanas.

  Maybe not you, but I would, came Slayer’s voice in his mind.

  “Leave him be, he is our friend,” pleaded Tanas aloud.

  So weak, hissed Slayer’s voice.

  “You like him also,” stated Tanas, but he received no answer. “You know you do.”

  He sighed and calmed his rising anger. Mortality was what he craved and what he prayed for as he fell into an unusual, dreamless sleep.

  By noon two days later, he had reached his goal. He reached the Black Mountain of the Damned. He reached the mines. Within its tunnels and beyond, he would find his army. Tanas dismounted from his heavily lathered horse and strolled towards the entrance of the mines. Several Keepers walked forward to meet him. With a fight pending, Slayer regained control of the body and waited with his swords crossed behind him. The Keepers stopped and spread out, forming a semi-circle around him. Slayer bowed his head toward the Keepers. In unison, the six guardians of the mines unwound their iron-tipped whips. Inside his helm, Slayer smiled. The Keepers raised their arms and snapped them forward. Slayer was already moving. He cut his sword through the torso of the first Keeper. Spinning, he hacked at the second one backhanded. Ducking low, he drove his swords up and forward into the next two. Rolling forward on the ground, he leapt up and spun, lashing out, hacking two more through the head. He stood with his head bowed. The last grey robes whooshed to the ground. He walked forward and entered the mines.

  For days Slayer stalked the mines, killing any and all Keepers that crossed his path. He gathered the miners and told them to wait for him at the Yallaz’oom exit to the maze of tunnels. Slayer reached the Grey Path exit of the mines and slaughtered the Keepers that were patrolling the mouth of the tunnel. There he waited.

  When the Keepers returned with more Wanderers to become miners, he killed all of the guardians and freed the miners. He sent them into the mines, giving them directions to the other exit. Soon more and more groups returned and each time he freed the Wanderers. When Slayer thought he had enough men, he returned to the tunnels. He veered off the route he had marked for the Wanderers and found a large cavern that had an eerie glow. He boldly entered the cavern and stood on the centre of a crossing that spanned a perfectly still, black liquid lake.

  “Come to me, Solus!” hollered Slayer.

  Initially, nothing happened. Then a scraping sound started. The scratching, scraping noise intensified. The noise increased as the walls and ceiling seemed to come to life. From the cracks in the walls and ceiling, small skeletal creatures emerged with ripped, grey clothing and crudely made spears. Thousands upon thousands of the little creatures filled the cavern and looked down at the solitary figure in silver armour.

  “Come!” bellowed Slayer, and more and more of the creatures filled the cavern. One of the Solus raced up to Slayer, brandishing its short spear. Slayer simply held out his hand and the creature cowered down low.

  “I know who and what you are. You were once proud men who walked the Grey Paths. Remember. You were once men who walked on green fields, or on the sandy Steppes or in the mountain snows. Remember.”

  All around him, the Solus started to look at each other, and the clicking, scraping noise started again.

  “Do you remember?” bellowed Slayer. Silence greeted his question. “You do, you remember being men; proud men who walked tall, heads held high. How would you like revenge on the monster who changed you to this?”

  The scraping noise started again.

  “I can give you your revenge. Come with me and you will walk on green hills and on sandy dunes once more.” Slayer turned and walked through the cavern. The Solus parted as he approached. He reached the exit of the cavern and turned to face the statue-still creatures.

  “Come and be men again,” said the warrior softly, turning and leaving the cavern. The first Solus followed the man. Then more followed. Soon all of the Solus followed the man through the mines.

  Slayer exited the mines and faced ten thousand miners carrying shovels and picks. Behind him, tens of thousands of Solus swarmed from the tunnels onto the open ground. The warrior saw a large stone, walked up, and stood on top of it.

  “You men are Phadrine, Rhaurn, or Kharnack. Yes, you all come to the same place after death. I am Slayer, once Death, once the Dark One’s champion, but no more. Now I fight for myself. In your lands, the Dark One is battling against the Phadrine. Do not think it is only the Phadrine who are affected by this battle. The Rhaurns have marched across the Steppes to their aid. And as for the Kharnacks, I believe your brethren are helping the other two nations.

  “I do not promise you redemption, nor do I promise you Paradise. The only thing I promise you is a chance for vengeance against the beast that imprisoned you in the mines. I give you the chance to help your fellow countrymen, your kin. I am going to the field of battle and I will kill the Dark One. But your brethren need help against the beasts. Will you come?”

  There was no hesitation, the miners lifted their tools and roared their approval. The scraping, clicking noise from the Solus showed they agreed as well.

  Slayer jumped down from the stone and started walking back towards Yallaz’oom. Now he hoped the old man had control of the portal.


  ***

  Within a week, Slayer’s army had reached the Black Palace. They skirted around the massive building and found the site for the portal. About thirty Caynians guarded the portal. Just before it opened, Slayer and his men charged into the Caynians.

  The massive warriors tried to defend themselves, but the mass of miners and Solus that attacked hacked them to pieces. The portal shimmered and a liquid film covered the area between two tall black poles.

  Slayer took a calming breath and stepped through the portal.

  ***

  Captain Badu and his men frantically fought to maintain control of the great hall but in the massive space, the Shadows and Caynians could wield their awesome weapons. Only a few dozen axe-wielders remained alive and battled on. Many times, the portal had opened and more of the creatures had marched through and joined the fighting. Gan-Goran stood in the doorway, using his magic to keep the creatures at bay. But even his magic began to weaken. Then the portal shimmered again. Captain Badu cursed loudly and his men fell back. The beasts and massive warriors looked at the portal, waiting for more of their brethren to walk through. Instead, a tall warrior in silver armour stepped through.

  Badu looked at Gan-Goran, who appeared puzzled. The axe-wielder returned his attention back to the warrior standing in the portal. He slowly removed his helm.

  “You have done well, old man,” boomed the man, talking to Gan-Goran.

  “You took your time,” replied the magic-master wearily. “Did you find . . . ”

  The warrior nodded before Gan-Goran finished and put his arm back through the portal. Suddenly, the room was filled with thin, ashen men in grey clothes who immediately attacked the beasts.

  Captain Badu turned to Gan-Goran, who nodded with relief. “Come on boys, help is here. Let’s finish these whoresons.”