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Of Valor in Men

Chapter Ten: Layman

The tundra was bleak, it looked something to close to a blank canvas, just unending white and cold, the winds here were visible like waves over the loose snow. We had left the Mountains and the Keep behind some three days ago now. It was just Me, Hamlet, a Vestal by the name of Triss and a Bounty Hunter, the same one I had met in the Tavern back in BerryBuckle. I had decided to tell Kaiber what I was doing, he understood why I didn't want him to come; the Assassin said she would keep an eye on him for me. I promised him that after this I would take him to Mayoran; so he could go home.

Now it was just us four, racing along over the ice and snow via pack dog pulled sleds, I no longer wore my Black church knight armour, A smith at the Keep had made something more fitting for me, it'd taken the better part of a score but with the Blizzard, I had little to do but wait and plan. Now that it had finally cleared up enough to travel we were fast on our way to ending this, and yet I felt empty. I had no drive for this anymore, the rage for this man was mute, he'd just been a puppet for someone else.

The Layman Tombs were an hour off, we could see the crumbling stone monument that lay at its entry, now buried in snow and caked with ice.

“Wooooooohooooo"! Hamlets voice pierced the cold howling winds as his head popped out of the pouch of thick furs strapped to my sled. His fur was like parchment in the wind and his ears remained stubbornly erect in defiance of the wind but his joy was sincere. It made me think about Niyla, perhaps a career in racing was a good way to spend my retirement. Then again retirement ment I had to survive this encounter; in all my years of Knighthood I had taken upon many a beast and fearsome foe, but none like a Shade.

But I wasn't a knight any more, at least not in my head, in my head I was trying my best to focus on Hamlets joyous glee. For it was the only thing that hung in the air that was positive, not the tomb before me, nor the howling winds, or the silence of my compatriots, only Hamlet; it took the fear from me, the uncertainty.

“Woooooohoooooo haha, now this is how to travel aye Roddy"! He howled out into the wind as we slowed out sleds. I could only shake my head, though I was smiling under my helmet.

“Enough fun and games Hamlet, we've to be on our guard now…" I replied, stepping from the wooden sled, the dogs having stopped some feet from the entrance of the tomb whimpering and whining, willing to go no further.

“Oh you're no fun anymore Roddy" He said, hoping from the sled himself, his tone something of coy playfulness, but his composure quickly became more professional and guarded as the other two sleds came to a stop behind us.

“We'll set up a camp here while the winds aren't so bad, we'll go from there" he added, Cyle began to unpack equipment from his sled, not saying anything as he had done the entire trip. Lastly was the Vestal, Triss a quiet lady, once a beautiful one till falling victim to a house fire one day, now her face was laden with horrid burns; she to said little from under the green hood of her garbs.

“Should we scout the entry chambers"? She asked, her voice directed at Hamlet, it was a hoarse voice, just as burned as her face. He shook his head, turning again on a dime and moving to help Cyle with setting up a camp.

“No, it's wiser to be cautious here, we've no idea what's in there, best to go in together." he said as I stood there, staring into the dark abyss of the tombs entry, the stones long frozen over, the smell of pure lifelessness and despair creeping from it and turning my stomach as my fists clenched tight.

And there I remained, like a statue as the others all set up, stowing the sleds and the dogs under a swiftly erected canvas tarp that was strung from the monuments crumbling limbs. Just staring into the waiting maw of stone before me, the threshold right before me soon to be broken as I lost track of time.

I was brought back by Cyle's touch on my shoulder, his faceless helmet popping into view, the sky had turned to dusk by now, I'd stood there literal hours; motionless. The camp had been erected around me yet I had noticed none of it, my obsession was near to be confronted and yet it still had me under its foot.

“Ready"? Hamlet asked me as he climbed up Cyle, taking a special strap at the shoulder in his paw and hooking his wooden foot into a sort of stirrup at the waist, his Spear at the ready. I gave him a nod and with that did Cyle take the first step into the black, I followed with and lastly Triss brought up the back; no going back now.

For a moment it was just pure darkness, until a torch was struck, flames blazing to life and illuminating the narrow passage of dark cold stone. I had my guard up; my eyes scanned everything they could see and my hand was poised on the pommel of my sword as we descended into the Tomb.

The entry chamber was at a rather steep angle, it sloped downward and widened a few meters in, the pillars in the center held the ceiling aloft but a few of them were failing, one was shattered entirely and there were scorch marks all around; they were fresh ones to. Cyle nor Hamlet made any comment on them as we passed them by, nor did they stop to investigate them, but I heard Triss curse from behind me.

“Fanatic" she spat under her breath. I gripped my pommel tighter, if there was a Fanatic lurking down here as well then our task had just gotten even harder. We soon came to level ground, the first of the actual Tombs, nothing more than a long, wide corridor of stone with an arched ceiling and dozens of small outcrops set in the walls were the dead lay, wrapped in cloth, with arms and armour still at their sides as well as coin and belongings. All four of us paused a moment, half expecting them to leap to their feet and charge us, but It didn't happen. It seemed odd, Shades were suppose to raise the dead, that was their thing, it's what made them dangerous; but these hadn't been touched, no runes or hexes lay upon them, nothing was disturbed.

“Something's off here Hamlet…" I whispered, his ears twitching and swiveling all around, trying to pick up any sounds.

“I know…" he said before we pushed on down the hall and into the next chamber, there were small craters in the stonework on the floor as we went; something about them bugged me. As we entered the next chamber I realised why; in the center of the room, on its knees, sat the Tombs guardian, a behemoth of stone called a Titan; and its head was shattered into a million pieces all over the room in blast like fashion.

“That's not good" Hamlet said, his paw clenching the shaft of his spear tightly as we all approached. Triss and I fanning left, Cyle and Hamlet going right around the dead Titan, I had really gotten to the Guardians front when I felt a warmth engulf my body. A moment later did a blast of dark black flames consume me; I threw my arms up to protect myself but they washed away a second later leaving me unscathed and facing a scalded and towering man with a dead, lifeless smile.

A Fanatic, sonaris mad men steeped in unhealthy obsessions with fire and pain; Triss had cast a barrier spell to protect me, she was sharper than me as it seemed. I drew my sword quickly as Cyle and Hamlet swiftly joined me and Triss; blocking the Fanatic between the four of us and the stone corpse of the Titan. He uttered but one word through that tortured smile.

“BURN"! He boomed, his voice like thunder in these cold echoing chambers and with that he brought his Maul up and swung it wildly at Hamlet; the face of the weapon glowing white hot and etched with a cruel brand. Cyle ducked backward the Mauls head missing his helm by but an inch but it went wide, forcing me to duck under it. I brought my sword up under armed and severed the heathens hand at the wrist; he only smiled wider, not reacting to it at all.

I brought my blade down, leveling its point at him, Triss was right behind me, ready to cast another barrier spell if needed, Cyle had his axe at the ready, his other hand twirling a tight coil of rope with a pronged hook at the end; but still the now unarmed Fanatic just smiled.

Then Hamlet turned, his ears drawn to the sound of heavy footfalls, Triss had my back so I turned but enough to glance back, and then did my gut fill with dread.

There at the other end of the Chamber stood a pair of towering figures, one a man the other a woman, their faces practically burnt off; Mauls in hand.

There were three Fanatics.