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Of Valor in Men

Chapter Twelve: Stranded

The Fanatics campsite within the ruins offered little else then stomach turning and garbled poorly written notes. The four of us tossed the place best we could, trying to find any information but there was nothing. Though Hamlet stood facing the caved in passage just outside rather than helping us; probably lost somewhere deep in thought as he usually was these days. Of course none of us noticed him climbing his way through a small gap in the long crumbled stone, that is until he cracked open an old stone doorway hidden at the back of the room. Secret passages were common place in the Northern Tombs; a way for embalmers and such forth to traverse the trap laden passageways safely.

“A little help here please anyone" came his voice from through the wall, Triss was quickest to find it, the door itself hidden behind an illusion, a hex set up by the Shade we sought. Cyle and myself managed to force the doorway ajar after Triss dispelled the Illusion for us.

“Hiding in plain sight. Shades, coward the lot of them" I cursed under my breath, I had read about Shades and what they could do; however I had neglected to pay much attention to said information, that or old age was catching up with me.

“Be on your guards compatriots" Hamlet said, leading us on down the newly opened, narrow passage, said passage had seen use lately. The frost and dust on the stones had been brushed away, now there were blood trails, most were red but one was distinctly different. One might have mistaken it for blue paint if they were uneducated; I knew it to be the blood of a Vermian.

“You think they've a Pagan down here to"? I muttered to Hamlet as he remounted Cyles back, his ears twitching away as he thought. From the little I knew of the darker schools of magic, Pagans were more favorably accepted, though most were Vermian.

No one said anything on the matter through, a foul and stale smell suddenly washing through the tunnels, something akin to the stench of a mouldy library. It seemed that only I showed any reaction to the smell, gagging a little as we pushed on around a corner and into a small antechamber.

We spilled out into the next passage ready for combat but we were met with just another empty chamber, elongated like the prior one, though this one was lit by torchlight and had many a hanging cloths draped from ropes strung up across the room. They were old, looking to be sheets of some sort, though there was a foul smell in the air; that of putrefaction. We all sheathed our weapons and began to spread out, looking for clues yet still onguard encase something was lurking about.

I pushed northwards, toward the far end of the room, pulling back the sheets of cloth as I went, I found tables stocked with jars of expired and fermenting embalming liquids, fat and organs. A moment later I found low slung stone tables with a crevasse running down the center of them, though the stone was smeared with a black soot like residue.

“This was a morgue, these tables here, they have drains for the blood and fluids, this is an entombing chamber, where they removed the bodies blood and fat before burial. The morgue in Rigels capital is uses similar tables" I called out to the others, I received mutterings as a response and a confirmation from Triss. I pressed onwards till I reached the far wall of the room where old mouldy wooden cabinets and shelves held all sorts of old and long unused tools and tomes, though no sign of any Shade to my dismay.

“Found that Pagan over here" I heard Hamlet call out, I moved back along the room till I found him and sure enough there lay a dead Pagan, frozen stiff in a cage and bled dry by the looks of things. Pagans blood was mildly poisonous to anyone but themselves, but it wa useful in some alchemical formulas, most of which were looked down upon rather harshly.

“So no sign of our supposed Shade hmm"? Hamlet questioned as he pawed through some dusty old book left laying atop the cage. This little game of cat and mouse the Shade was playing us was beginning to get on my nerves at this point; I let out a sigh.

“Looks like he isn't…" I started, but Triss swiftly cut me off with a resounding “Over here"! Called from the other end of the chamber. I turned, hand on hilt ready to draw my sword and strike, making my way back through the hanging gorefest. Triss was over by the corner, her gaze affixed to the desiccated remains of a man, the man my ire had been so focused upon for so many years; the Shades former puppet.

The sight was ghastly, laid out on one of the stone morgue racks, near every bone in his body visible through greying, stretched skin. Eyes sunk deep in the skull, yet breath still came from him, his eyes slowly crawling up to meet my gaze. Whatever hate or vengeance I'd had evaporated instantly as I feel down upon a knee.

“You… I remember… you… he made me…" his voice was faint, dying, dry, he had to take deep wheezing breaths between nearly each word but the light of his eyes told me everything.

“Tell me where he is, I will smite him for what he has done" I replied, to be a puppet to such evil for so long,, I couldn't possibly imagine the torture of it. Though just by looking around the room I could at least guess.

“He...wont…let...me...die" he said again wheezing heavily, his arm, raising slowly, shaking as if unable to support its own weight. His skin was darkening, dissolving into smoke slowly, suddenly the blackened marks on all the other vacant tables became clear.

“Tell me where the Shade is and I will make him suffer" I asked again, though with more desperation, his arm moved slowly, feebly till it pointed southwards, the bones beneath the now smoke like skin began to turn black.

“Doubled back...in the storm...headed to the keep...hasn't left yet…" my eyes widened from those words and turned to the others, our reactions where all the same, we all bolted for the entryway.

I was faster than the others, even Hamlet with his prosthetic foot was lagging a little behind, but then again I was fueled by rage and a desire to have this evil dead by my hand and my hand only. My Casting Seal burned through my gauntlet, filling me with energy, the hefty armour I wore weighed nothing to me in that moment and as I burst out into the freeing wind and snow I didn't stop charging.

The figure before me was no doubt a Shade, blackened skin scrawled with runes and writing, the lack of hair and the fact that he was levitating; all dead giveaways. I made to spear tackle him but before I could close the gap I was suddenly frozen in place mid step, my limbs held by invisible chains that I could feel yet not see; A binding hex.

“So predictable" came an all to familiar voice and sure enough as the thing turned to face me I was taken aback by who I saw.

“Adler...so, it's an illusion you have sitting in prison…" I growled through clenched teeth, I felt a warmth washing over me, no doubt Triss working to break the Hex from the shadows of the entryway. Our camp was destroyed, the sled dogs slaughtered, the wind was picking up again, snow blowing about; another blizzard was building, another illusion.

“Tsk tsk such a clever mortal" Adler sneered, even though his mouth was sewn shut and his eyes were nothing more than swirling orbs of smoke his physical body was merely a catalyst, the blackened aura around him, that was the true Shade.

“Puppet or not Adler you won't get away with this" I growled yet again, I could just about move, I could feel the Hex failing, all I needed to do was keep him talking and soon I'd be able to strike.

“You should have stayed in Rigel, but instead you served him to us on a silver platter. You're Squires hide will make a lovely whip and I shall use his skull as a chamber pot while you and your pathetic friends freeze to death out here" he said, and with that he turned and slowly made off into the storm, cackling to himself as the Hex finally gave out and I rished after him.

Before I could make any ground though I was stopped once again, this time by the arrival of a fast moving mass of pitch black smoke that darted out from the tomb entry and landed before me. I quickly drew my sword and the others all did the same.

Before us rose a blackened skeleton with sharp fangs, enwreathed in smoke, a Marrow, we readied ourselves as it screamed into the howling wind, defining the roar of the Blizzard and as I readied to strike the beast.

Four more came howling from the tomb.

Epilogue

Lone high above the frozen tundras did a watchful eye observe the renounced knight below and the evil whom he faced against. The Mountain Tora was the highest peak in the world, towering over all. It was here that sat a well aged man, hair and beard that of ash in colour, his skin had a slight tan to it, his features were sharp and his eyes closed.

Yet he saw the former knight clear as day through the eyes of the towering golden Wyvern that sat behind him on the mountain. A beaked Dragon with the visage of some enormous bat whose steely eyes could see far across the lands if strained.

“The Shade makes for the Keep of the Divide" the Dragon spoke, not in tongue but in thought for the Man before him was a dearest of friends. Said man's eyes opened and his face adopted a look of deep thought.

"They would not listen to us, we are banished from the Keeps, surely you remember that Sva'll" he said, not turning to face his scaled compatriot. The man had memories of being a leader of men, once someone trusted by all, now betrayed and absconded.

“I remember, but Tormin is old and the Keep is scarcely stocked with men to defend it, Theodore, they will need our help" Sva'll said, this time in tongue, his voice whispered yet it was heard as if spoken normally. The man, Theodore, he knew his friend spoke true, by the time anyone knew what was happening, the boy would be dead and the enemy would be one step closer to their goal.

“Can you make it in time"? Theodore asked, standing, brushing snow from the flowing tateres of his armour as he turned to his friend and began to climb the left wing up to the saddle.

“You know I can, from up here I could glide the whole way and still make it in time" The Dragon boasted as his rider slipped in in front of the shoulders and began to strap himself in, the saddle, the man, his armour it was all well worn, though maintained meticulously.

“No gliding today, Sva'll, show no mercy to the rising evils" Theodore said, voice booming out from the mountain top, the man's eyes glowing with energy as the cloud above began to darken.

Sva'll gave out a deafening roar as thunder boomed out over Mirodel, as lightning arched down from the skies and cradled itself in Theodores hands as if beckoned there by its Master. With that did Sva'll launch off from the mountain, wings folded, the golden beast letting gravity do all the work as they raced down the face of the mountain toward Dragonholme.