A few days later a fancily dressed merchant with a long twisted moustache noticed the pale knight leaning under a tree seemingly asleep. One of his men made some uncouth suggestion about the knights’ belongings but the merchant warned them that they would lose their well-paying positions if they made any moves towards the lone knight. Still the merchant couldn’t help but wondering what a man, even a knight, would be doing all alone this near the mountain passes. Even stranger was the mans’ ability to sleep so near very real danger. The merchant thought of the rough wagon guards he employed and thought of how he felt uncomfortable without being with at least half a dozen of these strong men in this region. There were in fact very real dangers that wandered to and fro around these mountains and everyone knew it. With a shrug he rode on and made no attempt at conversation with the knight who had been watching them during the entire time of their passing.
The eyes among the mountains were the next to spy the pale knight. Dark furtive folk in rough spun dark hooded clothing watched as the lone warrior hiked up the mountain trail. The sky had an auburn cast and the sun cast its fiery rays upon the mountain peaks which were dotted in places with ruined cyclopean structures from some long lost civilization. These half broken spires and crumbling balustrades gave a vision of the bones of a long dead giant whose earthly coverings have been uncovered by some ravening animal. It was within these structures that the dark figures watched quietly making signs gesturing towards the lone knight. At a spot nearly halfway up the mountain pass the armored warrior turned with little indication as to where his goal lies heading to the east near a particularly eroded structure that may have at one time been some great fortress but now simply looked like a pile of brownish stones piled atop one another. The figures watched as the knight moved towards a large roughly square block, removed his glove and wiped away the dirt from the sky facing portion of the stone with his cloth wrapped hand. He leaned in close to the stone and then put the gauntlet back onto his hand. He stood for a time staring at the stone block then after a time he drew his sword raised his shield and began making his way towards the ruined structure. It was then the hooded figures nodded to one another and climbed down from their hiding places and encircled the wandering adventurer.
The pale knight knew of the existence of the dark folk of the mountain before they had stepped into plain view. He made his way into the ruined fortress choosing a spot at which he had his back against a pile of fallen stones which would be hard to climb and at which he could see every angle that an attacker may come from. The hooded mob outnumbered the man and they knew it. It was because of this that their approach was so brash. They strode into the ancient husk of a building fanning out to show their full numbers like an animal puffing its chest as a form of intimidation. Each held in one hand a small black stone carved with an odd symbol coated with a chunky red paint. The eldritch symbol upon the stone was like that of a blooming flower but instead of petals it had upon it stylized tongues of fire which curled as though they were in fact a natural part of a flower. In their other hand each person had a jagged knife or notched dagger which had clearly seen much use. The leader of this mob was a woman dressed darkly much like the rest. She had short cropped dark hair and would have had a pretty, if not a bit plain, face if it were not for the trio of large scars which ran diagonally from forehead to jaw and somewhat disfigured each detail of her face that they touched. She like the rest held forth a black painted stone but held no dagger in her other hand. Instead she had on her right hand a single long metallic nail which wrapped around her finger and was sharpened to a point. She spoke slowly in a dusky tone which some men found attractive, perhaps speaking to why she was the groups’ leader.
“You there, warrior of steel and sword, throw down your weapons and we shall shorten the death which is coming to you. You have stepped upon holy grounds and with each moment you are here you are blaspheming the great ones which will one day reclaim these lands.”
She paused for a moment to watch the mans’ motion but when she saw he was not answering she continued.
“Fine then” she spat “May the great ones turn your innards out and gnaw upon your flesh for an eternity. May the Lord of the Blackening Wastes dissolve your bones and the Dread Worm Galghuul lap up the remnant.”
All at once then the group of hooded figures, led by their dark haired mistress, cut a small line on their arms. They then daubed the blood onto their hands and flicked the crimson droplets toward the woman at the front all the while chanting in some dark unknown language.
“Nal’gun Phalshan E’twith Galghuul … Nal’gun Phalshan E’twith Galghuul … Nal’gun Phalshan E’twith Galghuul.”
The woman, who was the cults’ leader, had begun shivering during the chant all the while continuing the chant and holding the stone aloft. Her pale skin, dark hair and clothes were now dripping with small red rivulets and the stone in her hand began to leak some thick viscous black liquid whose fetid odor was enough to drive most men to vomiting. The liquid began congealing and shifted taking a bubbling and contorting form which seemed to be growing at an immense rate.
With a silver flash that was too fast for any of the cultists to react to the pale knight had rushed forward and with a single deft arc cleaved the hand of the woman off half way up the forearm. With a jet of wet crimson which sprayed the ground the cult leader fell to the side screaming and landing a few feet from the shuddering blasphemy that was still attached to the black stone. The two laid staring at one another as the pool of blood between them grew slowly. The woman reached out towards the dying now grey monstrosity staring into the single glazed eye which had been produced in the few moments of its excuse for a life. No one noticed the flicker in the eyes of the woman who was bleeding out like that of mother who had taken the first look at her still born babe.
After a split second of silence the mob roared and rushed towards the pale knight like a bees’ hive which had been struck by a rock. The seething swarm of cultists surged forward stabbing frantically as they came however the pale knight had chosen his position well as he fell back to the spot where he was originally standing. Only three men at a time could come within striking range and with only daggers at hand their assaults had little effect. The knight on the other hand hacked and slashed with devastating power, precision and swiftness like that of a warring lion. As crashing thunderbolts his broadsword lifted and fell cleaving skulls, arms, legs and anything else he could reach spilling blood onto the brown stone of the fallen fortress as the pile of bodies before him began to grow. Seeing the devastation that was wrought by the martial prowess and immense physicality of their foe several of the cultists began to climb the piles of fallen masonry and pillars seeking to flank the warrior. The pale knight saw this however and as the first man leapt with a scream like that of a howling banshee he stepped to the side allowing the insane cultist dash his brains against the hard stone. This however set the pale knight off and the cultist on the ground were able to press the attack. Several of the daggers were able to make their way in around his shield and sword and although not able to pierce the plate mail or chain some of them scraped and bruised the flesh at the places where the impact had been. The armored warrior recognized that the situation would soon be dire as at the closer distance their larger numbers would overcome the strength of any man or beast. With another yell one of the cultists leapt again driving his dagger before him but the knight threw both arms up bracing under the shield and then pivoted casting the smaller man, using the mans’ momentum, into the oncoming crowd knocking the first few men to the ground. The knight used this to clamber over a nearby mound of stones gaining a better position from which to fight however, it was much more open than the last position and as cultists rushed again he was constantly pushed back. Slaying as he continually fell back step by step a glancing blow to his kite shield caused one of the religious fanatics curved daggers to get stuck in the split in his shield. The knight split the mans’ skull but in his death grip he began falling back with the shield his grasp. A few of the cultists saw this and clutched the shield pulling with all their might and the pale knight had to make a choice whether to be pulled into the mob or let the shield go. He chose the latter. With only his sword left he gripped his bloody broadsword in both hands and cleaved with the strength of a bear letting limbs fly spraying gore about him until he had fallen back as far as he could. With his back against the eastern wall of this long dead edifice, which was built against the mountain stone, He searched quickly around himself for some egress. There was none to his sight and so with a renewed determination he reared like a great cobra at a moment of calm and began to set about his bloody task once again. He had slain man. He had thought perhaps thirty although it was hard to tell in the heat of combat, but there were at least as many still approaching with a ferocity and indifference for their own lives like none he had ever seen. As he was spilling the guts of an oncoming cultist a high pitched voice broke the clamor and his attention was drawn to his right where a slender pale hand reached out between some vertical cracks that had not been there when he had surveyed the wall. Shifting step by step he moved along the wall slashing and blocking his attackers and with a final twist he rushed towards the now halfway open stone doorway. As he ran however, he was caught between his pauldron and breastplate by a jagged blade which pierced his chainmail splitting the rings and sinking into his flesh. He grunted and hurtled forward into the dark portal to the unknown abysses as the stone slab slid closed and locked behind him.
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from Short Stories https://ift.tt/2NNhkKB
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