The Darkness Within Part 3

Chapter 5:
Reach Out to the Truth

“Your guess is as good as mine, mate.” Cynhard brushed off questions concerning the origin of the creatures they had faced with an air of indifference. Slade and he had dragged the unconscious Biske back into the village inn with great difficulty and were now seated around a wooden table discussing what to do next over filled goblets of ale. Biske slept fitfully in a bed nearby.

“I only care about stopping them!” Cynhard spoke again, bringing a clenched fist down upon the table with force. It was clear from his tone that he had some sort of personal grudge against the creatures.

“If we knew from whence they came we could stop them at the source.” Slade spoke, his arms folded across his chest, eyes focused on the guard. “They were no ordinary wolves, Cynhard- you saw them. Once slain, their corpses seeped into the ground like spilled ale. Naught but a bloody spot on the road remains of them now, if that! Now tell me everything you know. These monsters attack travelers, you say? When did all this begin?”

“Aye, Slade, no traveler is safe after the sun sets.” Cynhard did little to hide the mixture of emotions in his voice- sadness, fear, guilt.

“Cynhard, the truth.”

“Very well.” The guard gave in at last, “It was about two months nigh. ‘Twas this strange old beggar man passing through. Mist Valley sees its fair share of travelers, so no one thought much of it at the time, but even then we could tell something he was an oddity. He carried himself with such an air of entitlement, despite his looks. Marched right up to the Duke’s manse, he did, and demanded he be put up for the night! Fed, given a bed, and have his pockets lined with coin!” Cynhard paused to gulp down the last of his ale, “Don’t take it wrong, Slade. Duke Farthington isn’t a selfish man who would turn away someone in obvious need. But the audacity of it all! The Duke had me personally drop this man off outside the gates and lock them behind me, and believe you me, the beggar did not go quietly. Must have woken the every person in town with his cries about curses…”

“Curses?” Slade interrupted.

“Aye, curses. Said since we wouldn’t pay what he was due easily, he’d take it by force. It was the next night that those… things appeared. An entire pack of them, right outside the village wall, howling and scratching. They could have gotten in if they wanted, mate. It was just a warning.”

“So, since then, they have been attacking travelers? Why do they not come inside the village?”

“Because, Duke Farthington has been paying for our safety, Slade. The beggar came back not long after his little show. He said we would all be safe so long as we were willing to pay for it…”

Slade could not find the words to respond to this revelation.

“Since then, we have all been trapped in our own homes.” Cynhard continued, “The Duke continues to pay for our safety within the walls, and also offers to reward any warrior who passes through carrying so much as a knife at their side. The situation is desperate, Slade.”

“Aye, you are a desperate, pitiful bunch o’ fools, Cynhard! You lot have more blood on your hands than any of those creatures in the woods.” Cynhard and Slade jumped with a start, looking to the door to see the form of the tiny innkeeper shuffle into their room, “Didn’t mean to startle you, boy,” he said with a chuckle, “But I couldn’t stand to listen to this fool’s drivel anymore.”

“No one asked your opinion, old man.” Cynhard growled.

“Consider it a gift then, young’un.” The innkeeper snapped back, “Now back to the matter at hand.”

Cynhard reluctantly allowed a new point of view in on their conversation, and the old man sat himself at the table between the two others.

“Now then.” The innkeeper spoke, “Slade, was it? Everything this windbag here has said is true. Saw the whole pitiful display myself that night. And you’re not the first fool sent to his death to try and fix our problem.”

“Fool?” Slade was taken aback.

“Aye, fool.” Spoke the innkeeper, “Had a look inside that sack of “gold” Cynhard gave you before you left yet? There’s a reason I didn’t charge ye for the room, boy.”

Cynhard opened his mouth to object but stopped himself. Slade withdrew the small pouch from his haversack and undid the end. Small shards of broken glass fell out atop the table. Slade knocked them all aside with the back of his hand and shot Cynhard a look of pure hatred.

“Slade… Please…” Cynhard tried to find words to explain, “We didn’t think you’d return, and everyone in the village is poor enough as it is, paying off the debt we owe our oppressor.”

“Aye! And how long are we going to keep paying, Cynhard?” Snapped the innkeeper, “The village is going to be driven to ruins, whether it be by you and your lord or by the wolves at the gate. Why do you not gather all your men and put a stop to this once and for all?”

“If I did that, who would protect the village in my stead, old fool? You?!”

“I’d protect us just as well with a sack of coin as you do with that oversized woodchopper, Cynhard, and you know it.” The old man’s words were ruthless and seemed to strike Cynhard to his very core, “You’re just afraid.”

Cynhard was visibly hurt by the truth behind the old innkeeper’s words. He cast his gaze down to the floor and did not speak another word.

The silence in the room was deafening. All eyes were focused on Cynhard, who kept his gaze on the floor. The few seconds that passed seemed an eternity, and the silence was at last broken by a fourth voice, “Will the whole bloody lot of you just shut up and let me get some sleep!”

The other three quickly cast their gazes over to Biske, who had woken from his slumber and began slipping on his tattered shirt and boots. “Can’t bloody stand it,” He growled, “The three of you are talking in circles. I’ll go out there myself and rip the old beggar’s head off myself if I have to.”

“But, Biske, you need to rest.” Slade objected.

“I look sick to you?” His words rang true. Aside from the few rips and tears on his outfit, no signs of the previous battle showed on Biske’s features.

“But after what happened…” Slade tried to question again.

“Shut it or I’ll make you stop.” Biske growled, “I know what you’re going to say, so don’t.” He took fourth seat across from the innkeeper and forced himself in on the conversation, “Now then, like I said, Slade and I can take that old fool ourselves.”
“And what makes you so sure, eh?” Cynhard, the attention off him, found his voice again.

“I sent all them other sellswords you sent my way packing, didn’t I?” Biske growled back.

“So the ones that returned,” Cynhard sighed.

“Didn’t even attack the right man.” Slade finished the guards sentence, “Aye, then. Now that I know what I’m up against, I’m sure we can do something to help now.”

“After what I did?” Cynhard seemed confused, “What do you hope to gain? We can’t pay you…”

“Humph. If it’ll stop the endless flow of warriors you send my way,” Biske shook his head, “I’d gladly do it for some peace and quiet.”

Slade shot Biske a half-smile, “Look, Cynhard, though I am not at all pleased that you tricked me into risking my life for a broken bottle.” He spoke calmly, “I understand your situation, and I can’t ignore it.”

“Such honorable youths.” The old innkeeper, uncharacteristically quiet up to this point, beamed with pride at the two, “You could learn a thing or two, Cynhard.”

The guard was speechless. He looked from Biske to Slade, the former standing up and hastily walking to the door of the room, “…Thank you.”


Chapter 6:
The Ebon Tower

Once more the two warriors found themselves marching off the path from Mist Valley, their resolve strong, their mission clear, their sense of direction completely gone.

“Great plan, noble cause and all that, but have you any idea where the bloody hell to even start?” Biske was the first to voice his concern with the rate of progress in their endeavor.

“Not a clue,” Slade shrugged. He look all about him. The well-trodden dirt road meandered lazily through the forest, lush trees sprouting from the earth on both sides. A heavy mist still hung in the air, creating a disorientated feeling as the swordsman tried to see through it.

“Maybe one of those damnable wolves will show up again,” Biske voiced his thoughts without much concern for their sensibility, “We might be able to get some sorta clue from ‘em.”

“We should torture a feral beast for information then?” Slade found it difficult to hide his sarcasm, “Somehow I don’t think you thought your cunning plan all the way through…”

Biske, none too pleased with being made to look foolish was about to swing a punch at Slade’s exposed jaw, stopping himself only when a mournful howl sounded from the woods around them.

“Well, speak of the devils themselves.” Slade smirked. Through the mist in front of the two travelers, the outline of one of the wolf creatures appeared, it’s green eyes glowing dimly against the surroundings. As it came in full view of the travelers, the monster stopped in the middle of the path and stared them down. The two warriors had already drawn their weapons, they too standing the ground. “Seems there’s more to your plan than I gave you credit for, mate.” Slade spoke softly to his companion, “Perhaps you have a gift for prophecy and didn’t tell me?”

“Aye, Slade. That has to be it.” Biske took his eyes away from the creature, turning them toward the sky, “A beautiful tavern maiden is going to appear from the mist next, mate, a giant mug of ale in one hand and heaping sack of gold coin in the other.”

The prophesized maiden, of course, did not appear. Biske simply shrugged off this fact, the disappointment evident in his voice as he said, “Can’t win them all.”

Then the creature made its move. It took two steps toward the warriors, turned, and disappeared into the forest to the right of the road.

“Does it want us to follow?” Slade, relaxing his guard, asked aloud.

“No doubt.” Biske answered, already hurrying to follow the creature before the trail was lost.

Slade, reluctant to follow, cried out, “This is so obviously a trap, Biske!”

“Aye!” Biske’s voice echoed from the mist.

Slade hurried to give chase, catching up to his comrade after a few short moments. They followed the creature through the forest for what seemed an eternity, the mist that threatened to consume them whole growing ever thicker the deeper they traveled. Finally, when they all but lost sight of the wolf creature, the woods gave way to a large clearing. In the middle of the clearing, clearing the top of the trees around it, stood a tower. It was built of solid black stone, closed off entirely save for a door and what looked to be a single window at the top.

“Seems we’re here, eh?” Biske spoke, stepping into the clearing.

“On guard, Biske.” Slade’s voice was barely audible, “This doesn’t feel right.”

No sooner had the words left Slade’s mouth when a piercing howl filled the air the wolf creature they had been following through the trees leapt down from the top of the tower, landing gracefully in front of Biske, its green eyes cutting through the mist.

“Why lead us all the way here just to attack us…?” Slade was unfazed by the creature’s sudden appearance, instead trying to make sense of the situation.

“Enough questions!” Biske snarled, the sight of the wolf clearly beginning to disturb him, “Let’s just kill it..!” He charged forward with his cutlass drawn, fully intent on slaying the beast where it stood. He instead felt something grip his ankle as he tried to run, finding himself falling face first toward the ground and come face-to-face with death itself.

Zombies- the rotting corpses of warriors long-since slain in the field of battle were clawing their way to the surface from beneath the ground, decomposed flesh hanging from their exposed bones. Slade could only look on in sheer horror as they began to surface all around him, the one that had felled Biske using him as leverage as it attempted to completely extract itself from the ground, while still more hands broke free of the earth and grasping his other limbs.

“Grr….!” Biske struggled to break free from the skeletal hands, his body feeling as though it was going to be dragged blow the ground.

“B-Biske!” Slade found his voice. Summoning up all his strength, he ran forward to try and help his friend. Then the wolf charged. With inhuman speed, it lunged at Slade, who could not react in time. He found himself pinned to the ground, barely holding back the snapping jaws of the monstrous creature that held him down.

“No!” Biske reached his limit as he saw the creature soar over him. Anger coursed through his body. “I. Will. Not. Die!” His voice was growling and animalistic, “NOT HERE!” With a fierce cry and even fiercer strength, he pulled his arms free of their confines. Through sheer force of strength, he managed to climb to his feet, turning to face his enemy. His arms were still held in the grips’ of dead hands. Biske had not broken their hold on his limbs, he had instead ripped them from their sockets.

Slade was losing his grip on the jaws of the creature atop him. Sharp teeth inched closer by the moment. All seemed lost when suddenly the creature loosened its grip Slade saw its green eyes dim and roll back in its head, then with great force the wolf was picked up and hurled to the side. Slade climbed to his feet to see Biske wiping the blood from his cutlass.

“Thank you…” Slade managed to voice his appreciation.

“Now’s not the time!” Biske snapped back.

“Right!” Slade said, drawing his sword and turning to face the oncoming undead horde. At least twenty had managed to break free of the earth and were encircling the two warriors. Some still carried rusted weapons, some still wearing pieces of armor. All were rotting, and the stench of death hanged thick in the air.

“We may have to retreat, Biske” Slade spoke as the two warriors met back-to-back. The edge of the clearing was only a few paces away, although now guarded by the undead. Biske did not reply.

“NO ONE ESCAPES THE EBON TOWER!” A booming voice suddenly assaulted the senses, followed by an intense light. Flames shot forth from the ground at the edge of clearing, blocking off any chance of escape with a wall of fire the completely circled the tower. “NOW DIE HERE ALONGSIDE ALL THOSE BEFORE YOU, SLADE KEVINS!” The voice cried out again.

Now Slade was at his limit. He was surrounded on all sides by the undead, the scent of rotting flesh assaulted his senses, and the heat of raging flames brought sweat to his brow. “If I die  here…” Slade’s voice trembled with emotion, “I’ll drag all of you down to hell with me!” And his body moved independent of thought. He lunged forward, piercing a zombie  on the tip of his blade and spinning it around with force enough that the lifeless heap flew off into the crowd, knocking over two more.

“Now that’s what I like to see!” Biske howled with sadistic laughter as he watched the scene unfold. His single eye shined bright with its red light as he focused his gaze upon a particularly close group of enemies. He ran forward with great speed, burying his sword in the forehead of the closest one before it realized what had happened. As it fell to the ground, Biske thrust out his hands and managed to grip the necks of two more. He brought their faces close to his own. Each one managed an angry hiss as Biske’s fists clenched until he heard that satisfying snap.

“ARGH!” Biske released the two as a sudden and intense pain filled his right shoulder. Looking back, he saw one of the monsters was brandishing a spear, the tip of it buried in his skin. Rather than slow down, the pain only drover him wilder. Reaching back with the opposite hand, he pulled the weapon free not only from his shoulder but also from the hands of the enemy in one swift motion. His right arm fell to his side, blood running from the open wound, and a wild howl escaped Biske’s throat as he swung the spear butt at its former owner’s head, caving in the fallen warrior’s skull.

Slade’s sword swung all about in a flurry of flashing metal. Limbs, heads, and gore flew all about as none of the creatures could reach him without meeting a grizzly demise. Slade swung horizontally, and an arm fell to the ground grasping a rusty broadsword. He turned to thrust forward, his sword tip piercing another’s face. He kicked the lifeless heap from his blade and gave a diagonal slice to his side- another zombie was cut clean from shoulder to waist. Slade continued fighting as he attempted to make his way back to Biske when another howl pierced the air. Another wolf creature leapt down from the top of the tower. Slade did not even give it a chance to cause trouble. He ran forward and hurled his blade like a javelin straight at the descending beast. The sword pierced the monster’s heart. It fell to earth in a lifeless heap. Slade hurried over to the corpse to retrieve his blade, looking about at the carnage. He saw Biske beating one zombie to death with its own severed arm as he brought his boot down atop another’s skull. The battle seemed to be won, however the ring of fire still blazed about them.

Biske finished his task and, after retrieving his cutlass from the skull of one of his victims, hurried over to Slade. He was drenched in gore, eye shining brightly, yet still managed a toothy smile. “Whaddaya say?” He asked, “Do we pay the bastard up top a visit?”

“Aye!” Slade replied, grasping a palm over his fist, “We pay him back twofold for the hell he has caused.” He turned to try the door to the tower, with no luck. “Bloody hell!” He cried out, pushing on the locked door to no avail, “It’s barred on the other side.” He turned back to face Biske, noticing all around as more skeletal hands pushed their way through the earth, “We may die here yet.”

“I’ll be damned if we will! Step aside!” Biske growled in a raspy voice. Slade did as he said, stepping aside to allow his comrade by. Biske delivered a kick of such force to the door that the sound echoed all about the forest. The wooden beam holding it in place snapped in two, and the door flew off its hinges, smacking into a wall opposite it. “Come on!” Biske spoke quickly, hurrying inside the darkened doorway. Slade, though impressed and little bit frightened at what he had just seen, followed quickly.