Читать книгу The Vlishgnath Chronicles - Daniel Mitchell - Страница 9

Episode 3

As the small village of Drenton came into view, it was clear something had gone horribly wrong. Small, rustic dwellings that had likely sat upon lush, emerald-green grass now sat mired in mud, rainclouds blocking out the sun and precipitating lightly to perpetuate the oppressive feeling that emanated from the area. The four men stopped for a moment to behold the disheartening scene.

Thunderclese came up to stop next to Vlishgnath. “It wasn’t nearly this bad when I left…”

Vlishgnath nodded in acknowledgement, speaking in the cold commanding tone of a military commander. “Helmets on!”

Without hesitation, Thunderclese and Euronymus donned their headwear, while Vlishgnath did the same. Maximus, as always, was already in his full plate.

“Thunderclese, lead us to the church.”

Thunderclese nodded, and they slowly began making their way into the village. The streets were slick with rain, and most of the houses appeared abandoned. Signs of livestock being hastily slaughtered were present, and a good number of farm tools appeared as if they had been dismantled for parts. The only building made of stone was the church, which sat in the center of town and had been commissioned by the main cathedral in Ascention. It was purposely built large; in times of crisis, it could serve as a bunker for reinforcements and, in times of war, as a military foothold.

Vlishgnath, Maximus, and Euronymus continued following Thunderclese towards the building, until Thunderclese suddenly pointed and cried out, “Look!”

Vlishgnath turned his gaze just in time to spot what appeared to be a figure made from shadow disappearing around a corner at the end of a small path between two houses.

“Dismount!” Vlishgnath ordered, who slid from his horse with a natural litheness—the same grace absent in the way Thunderclese and Euronymus climbed down from their mounts, while Maximus stood from his cart and jumped down to the ground with a thud. “Shields at the ready!”

As the others stood on guard, Vlishgnath signaled silently for Thunderclese to follow, who responded in turn and fell in next to him. As they cautiously approached the corner of the house the shadow suddenly lunged forward from its hiding spot and dove straight through Thunderclese, continuing on through him and diving underneath the supply cart.

Thunderclese fell to one knee, dropping his shield from his left hand to support himself on the ground while he lifted his helmet from his head with his right, retching uncontrollably.

Vlishgnath stepped over to Thunderclese quickly, placing a hand on his shoulder and offering a quick prayer to Mithos. After a moment, his hand in contact with Thunderclese glowed brightly, and Thunderclese’s color returned.

Thunderclese spit on the ground one final time before standing up. “Well that’s new.”

“Silence!” was Vlishgnath’s harsh response, for at that moment, Euronymus was fixated upon the supply cart where the shadow had disappeared.

The tall, grizzled cleric slowly drew his mace in his right hand and reached out with his left as he cautiously approached the cart. A hissing sound came from underneath, and in an instant several things occurred.

The area suddenly became dead silent. All color drained from the world, and the pressure rose so great that the others could feel their ears pop. A sickening, unnatural nausea washed over them all in waves, and, as if in slow motion, the form of a grotesque, purple humanoid with bat-like facial features and sinister red eyes began its desperate attempt to scamper out from underneath the cart.

Euronymus, who seemed able to move at somewhat quicker speed, reached down and grasped the creature by the throat, lifting it up off the ground and holding it out at full arm’s length. Then, as if being jolted back into reality from a nightmare, color collapsed in on the black and white bubble they had inhabited and the pressure dropped.

Events unfolded at normal speed, Euronymus still holding onto the demon he had just snatched from the ethereal plane. The creature clawed wildly and frantically at him, snarling obscenities in the abyssal tongue and spitting at him, its claws leaving jagged marks in Euronymus’ black steel armor.

The three paladins watched on in a reverent fascination as Euronymus slowly made a sign of blessing, then raised his mace up high and brought it down upon the head of the demon, smashing its skull in. Yet still, it continued to struggle, no longer able to swear and spit, but rending and clawing with all of its strength at whatever part of the cleric it could reach. Several times Euronymus raised his mace in the air, bringing the brutal bludgeoning instrument down upon the demon’s head until the ground had been spattered with the black ichor that ran through the creature’s veins. Pieces of its skull and flesh sat in pools of blackness around Euronymus’ feet, while bits of the demon slid down the front of his plate mail.

Once the headless figure had quivered its last motion and gone still, Euronymus tossed it to the side like a rag doll. He then turned and reached out, pointing his open palm at the remains. After a moment, a divine white pillar of flame sprang forth from the ground underneath the corpse, burning bright and pure as it reduced what was left of the demon to ash.

“What in the abyss was that?!” came Thunderclese’s abrupt exclamation, breaking the shocked moment or two of silence that had followed the event.

“Hah! Next time, save me one!”

Maximus walked over, stamping down the demon ashes before turning to nod his approval to Vlishgnath.

Vlishgnath, however, was not so elated, for even as they spoke, he could already feel something very wrong. Euronymus felt it too, and before long they all saw what Vlishgnath and Euronymus were sensing: a half dozen more shadows darting around in their peripheral vision, circling them like a pack of wolves.

Vlishgnath’s voice rang out with the same unwavering urgent calm as before. “Swords! Form up around Euronymus!”

Thunderclese reached down, grasping the handle of his weapon and drawing a magnificent longsword from its scabbard. Maximus, who had been eager for this moment to come, reached back and unhooked the massive greatsword, Judgment, from the holstering contraption on his back, giving it a twirl above his head before bringing it to rest in a defensive grip in front of him. He turned and backed towards Euronymus as the shadows encircled the group more fervently.

Vlishgnath placed his fingers on the sword called Retribution, the blade recognizing its rightful bearer and practically flying from its scabbard. As Retribution was unsheathed, it glowed blindingly bright and rang out loudly, proclaiming its presence to all nearby. Shedding light even at midday, the sword let all who would oppose it know that Retribution was going to war.

Falling into a four man back-to-back formation, Vlishgnath and Thunderclese brandished their swords and shields, while Maximus dared any to come closer whilst he was wielding Judgment. Euronymus held his mace at the ready, scanning their surroundings.

The shadows were growing more aggressive, and Thunderclese did not care to feel the touch of the vile again. “How are we to combat them?” he asked.

Vlishgnath turned his head to the side so he could address Euronymus without taking his eyes off the creatures. “Euronymus! Is there any way to draw them out of their plane all at once?”

The mute cleric turned, looking at Vlishgnath for a moment to emphasize just how crazy the idea was, and confirming it with some terse and pointed signage.

Vlishgnath responded by shaking his head. “I’m afraid we have no other choice! We can’t do anything about them in their current state! Bring them to the light, Euronymus!”

The cleric nodded, and the world began going black and white as they all felt the pressure in their ears pop again, except this time the sensation radiated even more powerfully from the cleric, draining the world of color as it washed over the village. Every shadow it touched took the form of another of the purple-skinned demons with bat-like ears and glowering red eyes, their teeth bared as they began to advance on the men without fear. Then, the aura that had permeated from the cleric withdrew abruptly, returning color and normalizing internal ear pressure in the briefest of moments, and leaving six flesh-hungry demons stranded on the material plane.

Vlishgnath’s voice was ice-cold and hard as steel. “Let’s clean up, gentlemen.”

At that, he dropped his shield, pointing the tip of Retribution at the demon advancing upon him, who shrank back as it recognized the chosen champion’s weapon. There is not a demon in Hell who does not know the tales of a sword forged ages ago that drives the darkness away with its light.

Maximus was first to act. With a bestial roar, he charged forward, lifting Judgment high above his head in one fluid motion and bringing it down with all of his might. The demon was unable to escape its own momentum. Letting out a blood-curdling scream before being cloven in two from top to bottom, its wretched entrails and the black ichor that ran through its veins soon stained the soil.

Thunderclese, a skilled swordsman in his own right, took on an aggressive stance, keeping his shield up but advancing on the demon facing him. The creature slithered up to him on all fours, leaping upward and trying to throw the paladin off by slamming into his shield, then grasping onto the edges in an attempt to disarm him. Thunderclese responded in turn by dropping his shield, pivoting his stance, and thrusting from his broad shoulders, the point of his blade finding the demon’s throat and easily sliding straight through to the hilt. The creature flailed and clawed at him frantically, desperately trying to free the sword from Thunderclese’s hand. With an abrupt twist, Thunderclese doubled the size of the hole, turning the blade sideways so that as he withdrew and swung outward at the same time he nearly beheaded the creature, delivering a kick for good measure and sending the thing reeling back from him mortally wounded.

Vlishgnath and Euronymus advanced on their own demons. Euronymus grasped his mace in both hands, holding it in a low back position pointed at the ground behind him. The demon ran up on him quickly, staying low to the ground on all fours as the others had done. Just as it began to rise up to make its move on him, Euronymus brought his mace up in a forceful diagonal swing, catching the demon just under its chin with such heft that he brought the creature up to a full standing position. Continuing the momentum by swinging around in a complete 360 degree rotation, Euronymus lifted the mace high above his head before bashing it down into the creature’s chest, caving it in and spewing ichor everywhere as the demon’s form went limp and it collapsed to the ground.

Vlishgnath, however, stood in a relaxed pose with his shield down at his side. He kept the point of Retribution pointed at the demon, and for several moments it seemed to be debating whether or not to advance on one of the others instead. But upon hearing the death thralls of its companions, the demon’s courage became fueled by the desire for revenge. Putting all of its weight onto its back legs, it lunged into the air, its three-clawed hands reaching forward as it descended towards him at chest-level with the intent to latch on. Vlishgnath reacted in an instant, spun around, and brought his shield up. With a cracking thud, he slammed his shield into the demon’s side, knocking it prone to the ground. With the grace of a dancer, he continued the movement and brought Retribution around, spinning the blade in a full circle and a half as the handle moved nimbly through his fingers to an upside down grip, and drove the point of the blade straight through the center of the demon’s chest. As Retribution bit into the demon’s flesh, the creature howled like none of the others had, the blade paralyzing it with searing pain. A sharp twist severed any connections the demon’s heart had to its body, Vlishgnath pausing only for a moment to ensure the creature was not moving before pulling Retribution from its chest, bringing it back to a proper upright grip with a flourishing spin, and turning to face the remaining two demons.

One leapt at Maximus, thinking to capitalize on his overexertion with such a massive sword. It landed on Maximus’ right shoulder, its claws digging in to the joints of his armor and trying to scramble its way up his arm towards his head. Maximus reached over with his left hand, grabbing hold of one of the creature’s ankles and ripping it from his side the way one would a troublesome burr from his clothing. Held dangling above the ground, the demon waved its arms and free leg wildly. Maximus let out an angry growl, reaching forward and grabbing one of the demon’s arms and pulling in opposite directions with all his might. The shoulder joint parted from the torso, and the demon wailed as ichor poured to the ground from its severing limb. Tossing the arm aside, Maximus grabbed ahold of the other arm and did the same. Then he let the thing drop head first, the demon frantically trying to stand itself up but unable, having never been without arms before and incapable of finding its equilibrium.

As Maximus loomed over the demon, it looked up at him and spat, swearing at him one last time. Maximus simply shook his head, brought his massive plate mail boot over the top of the demon’s face, and stomped down with all his weight, spewing ichor and bits in a radial pattern.

The last demon had been watching carefully, and knew which of the four men to move in on. Waiting until Euronymus had exhausted himself, it swooped in and dive-tackled the cleric, knocking him prone on his back and pinning his arms with its knees. It moved quick to pry Euronymus’ helmet from his head before mounting a full assault on his unprotected face with its claws, tearing and rending flesh at a frenzied pace.

Vlishgnath, turning just in time to witness this, drew back Retribution and hurled the weapon at the demon, the sword spinning tip over end through the air and leaving a trail of light as it soared at the creature. The tip of the blade caught the demon in the side of the head. Its form went limp almost immediately, allowing the momentum of the thrown blade to carry it off of the cleric and collapse on the ground. The divine weapon sizzled as it seared the flesh inside the dead creature’s skull.

Vlishgnath and Thunderclese rushed forward, fearing the worst.

Euronymus was not moving.