PART III THE SWORD
Chapter 25
There was a tremendous blast of
energy. A silver brilliance flashed and
then shimmered throughout the room, cascading as a thousand glistening
snowflakes of light. Rwiordes was
stunned by the initial bolt and found himself reeling about on the floor in the
aftermath of the explosion. As he
gathered his senses he saw that not only had Hertrid suffered from the blast,
but the Demon was also flailing around on the floor. Helpless, thought Rwiordes for an
instant. He allowed himself the briefest
of chuckles at the Demon’s expense.
The sorcerers had not fared so well. It looked as though they had been hacked to
bits by a thousand strong blades. Their
remains were scattered about the room.
Their blood began to soak Rwiordes’ robe, and he struggled to raise
himself from the floor. His muscles
refused to obey his mind’s commands. He
was forced by his paralysis to remain with his face to the floor as the blood
trickled into his drooling mouth. He
knew not how long the condition lasted, but it was entirely unpleasant, except
for the fact that the Demon was similarly subject to the ordeal. As soon as he was able, he climbed to his
feet. The Demon and Hertrid also raised
themselves from the floor. The
sorcerers’ blood dripped off of them, splashing into the red pools that covered
the chamber.
Rwiordes carefully watched the
Demon’s reaction. The fiend casually
examined the piles of flesh that surrounded them.
“Impressive,” the Demon said calmly.
“But still a small matter.”
He looked down and examined his blood
stained garment. He smiled, as if in
approval of the effect the blood had on his apparel. He knelt down and pressed his hands into the
red pools around him. He then brought
his palms to his face and smeared them about, painting his face with the
macabre dye.
It was not this, however, that so
alarmed Rwiordes. He let out a startled
gasp as he saw Hertrid also paint his face in the sorcerers’ blood. His eyes were black orbs like the Demon’s.
“Surprised, Rwiordes?” hissed
Hertrid. His hiss resembled strongly
that of the hellish fiend.
“You shouldn’t be,” continued the
Demon through Perilisk’s mouth.
“I-I-I-I...,” Rwiordes stammered in
horror.
The Demon had now also taken
possession of Hertrid. Deep shivers ran
through Rwiordes.
“You see,” the Demon spoke through
both Perilisk’s and Hertrid’s mouth’s in unison, “it was originally my
intention to save this body for future use, as I still plan to do with yours.”
A cold shock settled on
Rwiordes. He gaped in unspoken terror at
such a prospect.
The Demon continued.
“Now, of course, this business of the
Druidic Champion has forced me to abridge my plans somewhat. Oh my, have I frightened you? You should have no fear, you shall be quite
safe, safer, in fact, than anyone else in the world. For you shall not know death until the world
is cleansed of life and order. Come, let
us depart and seek our rest, tomorrow, we depart from Coertol City.”
So saying, the possessed Hertrid
bowed and gestured to the door which the Demon graciously opened for
Rwiordes. Rwiordes left the chamber of
carnage and descended the vast tower staircase.
Both incarnations of the fiend cackled behind him in stereo. Rwiordes forced his mind clear from the idea
of escape that was even then beginning to take hold of the deepest fibre of his
being. He had thought he had plumbed the
very depths of nightmare, but now he had learned the truest horror. He was to share in Perilisk and Hertrid’s
doom.
As he left the tower the smoke from
the dragons’ fumes assailed his lungs, producing a coughing fit which continued
for several minutes. The Demon placed a
hand on Rwiordes’ shoulder.
“Go where you will in the city
tonight,” he hissed, “You and I leave for the Imperial City of Keythion at sun
rise, while...”
Hertrid’s mouth continued...”while I
shall take a contingent of men and dragons south and west towards Lorm to deal
with this impertinent female prince.”
“If you can,” coughed Rwiordes
defiantly.
The Demon’s hand struck out at
Rwiordes’ face, his nails dug painfully into his flesh. Blood trickled from the gouges as the
diabolical monster threw him to the hard stone street.
“Understand me, fool,” cried the
Demon at the top of his lungs, “No mortal can stand against me. With Hertrid’s body I shall subdue this
Champion. With your body shall I rape and
murder her! Obey me, that is all there
is for you to do. Now rest and be at the
city’s gate by dawn. Do you understand
me?”
“Yes, Master.”
By dawn Tyuriuk had two armies
assembled by the main gate. Rwiordes
looked into the faces of the men. Every
man wore an expression of fear. Even the
original contingent of thieves and highwaymen, had some trepidation apparent in
their demeanor. It was impossible to
gaze upon their leader and not be afraid.
Most of the recruits from Coertol City gazed back at the walls wherein
the women and children alternatively waved and cried to their husbands, fathers
and sons. The sound of sobbing echoed in
the wind.
The Demon inspected the troops on
horseback, smiling in some satisfaction, as the Abominations were finally
brought out from the city. He rode over
and had a few words with Tyuriuk and then summoned Rwiordes to his side. Rwiordes brought his own stead over to the
Demon.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Ah, Rwiordes, I have a task for
you.”
“Of course, Master.”
“Tyuriuk has selected these men,” the
fiend indicated a dozen mounted thieves, “to assist you. You shall wait here until this evening. During this time you shall permit no one to
leave the City. Is that clear?”
“Certainly, and then shall we rejoin
you?”
“Yes, but first, you shall take
this.” The Demon then handed Rwiordes a
small round glass containing a peculiar orange liquid. “And you personally must throw it over the
wall into the city.”
Rwiordes looked up at the high wall,
“I’m not sure I can get it over the wall.”
The Demon then smiled in a
good-natured manner, “Fear not, you shall not fail me in this.”
“I’ll do my best, Master.”
“I know you will, Rwiordes. Then make haste to rejoin my troop. Oh, and please have no thoughts of
escape. I can find you in an instant.”
With that the Demon signaled for the
armies to move. At once the troops set
off into two separate directions; one contingent under the command of Perilisk
and the other of Hertrid (both, now, under the control of the Demon). They led their forces in the front with the
cavalry units. Behind them were the
ground soldiers, followed by the dragons, the Abominations and their keepers.
Rwiordes watched them depart into the
distance. At first it was difficult to
believe, after six weeks he was finally able to breathe freely again. As the last of the dragons disappeared into
the distance, he smiled. Relief. The great emotional strain that he had been under
was, at least, temporarily over.
The men that had been assigned to him
had already been given their instructions and they took up positions around the
city’s gate. However, two of them stayed
their horses and remained by Rwiordes side, with vigilant gazes fixed upon
him. Obviously they were his guards, stationed
there to ensure his compliance with the Demon’s plan.
He allowed thoughts of escape to now
play freely in his brain. He was
hesitant, however, to make any rash plans.
He did not doubt but that the Demon would maintain some supernatural
surveillance of him. Uncertainty clouded
his reason. He was torn in his
indecision. For hours he vainly debated
within himself. He was not sure which
more terrified him: obeying the fiend’s
commands or fleeing.
When, at last, the sun had begun to
set, one of his men rode up to him.
“It is time,” the rogue said.
“Oh yes, indeed,” said Rwiordes
absent-mindedly.
He had almost forgotten about the
glass orb the Demon had given him. It
seemed so insignificant. No doubt this
whole mission was some sort of test. The
Demon clearly wanted to see to what extent he could trust Rwiordes, so he gave
him some little task. He held up the orb
and shook lightly. The orange liquid
swished about harmlessly inside. Such a
thing could do no real harm. Rwiordes
truly doubted that he could hurl the glass ball over the great height of the
wall. He could see no good reason why he
should not heave the ball. If the Demon
wanted to test him, so be it. Perhaps
once the orb was thus flung, the Demon (not to mention the warriors left to guard him)
would be satisfied of Rwiordes’ loyalty and then drop their vigilance, making his
escape easier.
He rode his horse closer to the great
city’s fortification. Sorrowful cries
still sounded from within. It was as
though the city itself were lamenting its sad fortunes. He examined the orb once again. Indubitably harmless. His guards watched him as he gently tossed it
about between his hands (in order to gauge its weight and balance). Then without even a thought he tossed it
quite lightly into the air. Or so it had
seemed to him. Despite his gentle toss
the orb flew with great force from his hand and easily cleared the mighty wall.
The fact that the ball topped the
great battlement had surprised Rwiordes somewhat. He was, however, struck dumb in amazement and
horror, by what happened then. The
entire city burst into flames at once.
In hardly an instant fire reached up to engulf the highest tower. Screams rang out, cries painful to the
ears. If anyone had wanted to exit the
city they did not have time, so quickly did the flames consume the metropolis.
The heat grew so intense so quickly
that Rwiordes and his men backed away from the raging inferno. Rwiordes collapsed in tears and fell from his
horse crying like an infant.
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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