Realm of the Dead, page 19
part #1 of Empire Paladin Series
The demons came to the aid of their warlock masters at their own peril. Talitha lopped the head off a particular nasty looking demon, a twisted abomination that had some human features, yet was the furthest thing from human. Talitha subsequently drove her sword into the belly of the demon’s master. Atrael brought his mace into the jawbone of another warlock causing the head to swivel halfway around. As that warlock died, the demon, no longer bound to its master, vanished to return to the netherworld.
The last remaining warlock had the foresight to flee the soonest and raced into the safety of the trees. The weapons of the paladins would not catch him. Fausta teleported several times to close the distance between herself and the fleeing warlock, determined let no one escape. As the warlock zigged and zagged amongst the trees, Fausta conjured a flying boulder that hit the spellcaster on the side of the head, dislodging him from the saddle, and sending him crashing to the ground. Fausta then levitated a much larger boulder high above the warlock and then dropped it upon him as he lay helpless and screaming.
* * *
The comrades searched the bodies for any information about Vhaldrynn’s plans or orders. Finding none, they made their way back to the regiment.
Chapter 33: A DUEL OF PALADINS
- Duchy of Saxony: Month of October, Year of Our Lord 1241.
Irina Antal was conversing with her demon in its own harsh, rasping tongue. The presence of Lucifer’s minions still brought about a tremendous feeling of revulsion within Vhaldrynn. The Risen Dead were foul, revolting, and—of course—stank, but Vhaldrynn was able to tolerate their ilk. Despite having forsaken his god and renouncing his status as a paladin, these demons created an overwhelming urge within Vhaldrynn to pound them into unrecognizable masses of matter until they ceased to exist. Vhaldrynn found it hard to believe that Irina and her fellow demon-conjurers relished the company of these hellspawn.
Speaking in its demonic tongue, Irina’s demon declared, “Swy kytaf zyljofsz oly kyok. Swyu wojy xyyf neddyk xu of oltu.”
“Qwyly ez Olnaf?” Irina asked of her demon.
“Wy ez ef o jofriolk os swy wyok ab swy belzs oltu,” the demon replied.
Irina continued to ask more questions of her minion, and then walked over to Vhaldrynn.
“Nehpaz has been communicating with her kytaf in the netherworld. She says that the scouting party of warlocks and their demons were killed by a second army that is a few leagues behind Lord Arkon’s.”
“Reinforcements?”
“My demon is uncertain if that second host could be considered reinforcements, but she says the second army is not as large as the first.”
“We must assume reinforcements then.”
“It’s possible that with the additional forces that are riding to join Lord Arkon, that our own forces may be overwhelmed, Vhal,” Irina offered hesitantly.
Vhaldrynn frowned. He did not think anything could possibly stop the force of undead he had mustered, but it was better to not take any chances. “Does your demon know where Lord Arkon is at this moment?”
“She says that he is a day’s ride from us. He is in an advance vanguard of a couple of thousand mounted knights.”
“How much distance separates the main army from his vanguard?”
Irina asked the question of her demon.
“From her descriptions, I would estimate about two days ride, maybe more.”
“Ever the arrogant and overconfident paladin is Lord Arkon riding out ahead of his army as though no danger could possibly befall him,” stated Vhaldrynn. He had fought with Ian in several battles throughout his many years within the paladin Order and was very familiar with Lord Arkon’s military strategies and proclivities.
“If we move our own forces quickly to the south, we may be able to engage him before his main army can join him,” Irina smiled with anticipation.
“We cut off the head and the snake’s body thrashes about helplessly,” Vhaldrynn mused.
“I’m quite partial to snakes,” Irina declared. “After all, Lord Satan has enjoyed the guise of the snake to wreak his havoc before.”
“You understand my intent, Irina. Your idea is a smart one. Let’s move out quickly.”
Irina grinned. She thanked and caressed her demon.
* * *
Lord Ian Arkon rode at the head of a vanguard of two thousand mounted warriors: knights and cavaliers. Five paladins joined him in the vanguard as well. Lord Arkon could hardly contain his eager anticipation of the coming battle with Vhaldrynn. The last reports put Vhaldrynn’s main host at two days ride, maybe less. Leaving Lord Markkus Toure and the commander of the militia, Lord Johan Perdain, in charge of the main attack force, Ian had urged his vanguard on with all possible haste in hopes of getting any early look at the enemy’s numbers. The small pockets of Risen Dead they had run into—and run through—would be like gnats compared to the main body of Vhaldrynn’s army of undead. It would be advantageous if Ian had time to prepare and plan the coming battle.
Their path descended into a shallow valley surrounded by great, rolling hills of tall grasses and shrubland. The well-traveled and rutted road continued north through the bottom of this valley. Ian scanned the countryside for any signs of scouts or Risen Dead; then urged his charger onward with his spurs. If they could gain one of the higher hilltops in the distance, it might be possible to use a long-glass and view the enemy from a distance.
A paladin rode up on Ian’s left side. “What do you make of that in the distance, m’lord?” The paladin pointed down the road.
Ian squinted and peered into the distance ahead. There was a small band of about twenty riders coming towards them. They were still some ways off and did not seem to have noticed Ian and his mounted cavalry bearing down on them.
“Possibly scouts for Vhaldrynn. Perhaps some refugees fleeing from the undead. Let’s get to them quickly and find out.”
Ian motioned for the rest of the vanguard to keep at his heels and then kicked his charger into a gallop.
The thundering sounds of thousands of riders must have reached the small group ahead as they reined in their horses and halted. Then they spun their horses about and raced away.
“A scouting party!” yelled Ian. “Let’s run them down before they can get back to Vhaldrynn!”
As the distance closed, Ian drew out his warhammer. A golden-white light began to grow in the headpiece as it anticipated bringing about righteous vengeance. To then see the fleeing riders suddenly stop and stand their ground was the least expected maneuver Ian had counted on. He was stunned by the utter foolishness, the utter brazenness of the tactic.
And that was when he saw what was further down the road from the small band of riders; Lord Vhaldrynn Malleus atop a massive, black warhorse at the front of thousands upon thousands of Risen Dead. Ian then perceived other movement out of the corners of his eyes. Looking left and right at the surrounding hills, Ian saw multitudes of corpses lurching into view as they began their relentless descent into the valley below. Lord Ian Arkon and his vanguard was surrounded. With dawning horror, Ian realized that a trap had been sprung and his part was soon to be that of the helpless, struggling prey caught in it.
Knowing that their doom was likely sealed, Ian was resolute in fighting to the bitter end.
“Soldiers!” he yelled circling his vanguard force. “Prepare for battle! Fight like you have never fought before! Send these fiends back to hell!” He continued riding the border of the vanguard voicing war cries and rallying his soldiers. He could see the fear in their faces, could smell their fear like a rank perfume. He had led them into the clutches of death; had led them to their deaths. So great was the despair in his heart at having brought about his soldiers’ certain destruction that Ian felt as though he might collapse from his steed. But he could not falter now. This would be when his men needed him most, when they all met the hour of their death.
He heard Vhaldrynn yell a command. It sounded like it came from a distance of thousands of miles away.
The battle was joined.
* * *
They fought valiantly. They fought with tremendous courage and bravery. Ian had never been more proud of his warriors.
Countless Risen Dead were smashed and blasted into smoking ashes. The ground was wet and sticky with rotting innards and black, congealed blood. Demons sent into the fray by the warlocks and witches were met with brilliantly shining holy weapons and dashed into smoldering scraps of corrupted flesh.
Lord Ian Arkon and his soldiers fought like a force of ten times their number, but it was the sheer multitudes of the enemy that overwhelmed them. One by one, Ian’s men fell to their deaths or collapsed with mortal wounds. To make matters worse, a fallen comrade would then rise again as an unliving enemy. Choking with anguish and despair, Ian continued to burn undead into ash and send demons back to their spawn world. Soon he was the only remaining survivor as the undead army closed around him.
Ian screamed with fury. He screamed in frustration at the helplessness he felt. Hurling his hammer into the midst of Risen Dead, he collapsed to his knees, bowed his head, and waited for the end.
The final blow did not come.
The undead parted to make way for a rider on a black warhorse, Lord Vhaldrynn Malleus. Vhaldrynn had retrieved Ian’s warhammer and now tossed it back to the paladin where it fell into the dirt beside the holy knight.
“I’m actually impressed, Ian,” Vhaldrynn said laughing softly. “You’ve destroyed a tremendous number of my army. It’s helpful that your own men have now joined me to shore up my forces.” He chuckled at the irony.
Ian looked up at Vhaldrynn with pure hate in his eyes. “Satan will meet you personally at the gates of Hell.”
“You might be surprised, but I’ve already met him. And I don’t plan on joining him in Hell, Ian.”
“You won’t escape the judgment of God, Vhaldrynn. No one has. No one will. Not Lucifer and certainly not you.”
“God will have no dominion over this world once I am through with it, Ian. But I admire your blind faith in Him.” Vhaldrynn paused for a moment. “Ian, I’m actually going to give you a chance to end this here and now.”
Vhaldrynn dismounted from his horse. “I’ll give you a chance to kill me right here and put an end to this plague of death…right now.”
Ian looked back at Vhaldrynn in disbelief. This was just another trap.
“I promise you that my army will not interfere.” Vhaldrynn surveyed his forces. “I promise you that the necromancers, the warlocks and their demons will not interfere either. It will be just you and I, Ian. You can bring an end to all of it right now.”
Ian slowly stood up. He bent down and retrieved his warhammer. He ran his gaze over the undead corpses, some of which had been his own men moments earlier. He looked into the faces of the warlocks, witches, and necromancers that peered intently back at him. Locking his eyes with Vhaldrynn, he hefted his weapon.
Vhaldrynn grinned broadly and unsheathed a straight-edged short sword. He nodded at the buckler shield Ian had strapped to his forearm. “I recall so many times trying to convince you to toss that shield in favor of another weapon.” Vhaldrynn unsheathed his second short sword. “You see, Ian, the paladin combat emphasis on defense is weak and feeble. I’m going to teach you how two offensive weapons actually negate the need for a shield.”
Ian brought up his buckler shield over his chest and cocked his hammer arm. The two combatants began to circle each other. Vhaldrynn made a few jabs with his swords clanging the blades off Ian’s shield, testing Ian’s defenses. Ian responded by swinging his warhammer at Vhaldrynn’s midsection but not overextending his reach as he knew very well how fast Vhaldrynn was with his blades. Vhaldrynn deflected the swings easily. Ian had always known Malleus to be an exceptionally agile fighter who invariably bested other paladins in training combat duels. Ian had to be patient and use Vhaldrynn’s speed against him. Wait for an opening.
Vhaldrynn bounced on the balls of his feet, jabbing and making half-stabs attempting to lure Ian in. Ian kept his hammer poised and his shield ready as they continued to circle. Vhaldrynn lunged forward with shocking speed and began to rain steel upon Ian’s shield and armor. It was all Ian could do to deflect and block the storm of blades.
Vhaldrynn pulled back and laughed. “You’re like the turtle that hides in its shell. But all shells can be pried open.”
“God is with me, Vhaldrynn,” Ian responded.
That remark caused Vhaldrynn’s face to go dark with anger, his eyes black with fury. “God is not here, Ian. God is an absent landlord.” He lunged forward again.
Ian blocked swing after swing. He could not keep this up much longer. Vhaldrynn was swinging faster and with increasing accuracy. Soon a blade would find its mark.
Ian stepped into a strike knowing the risk and brought up his hammer to deflect a side swing. Ian swung his buckler shield up and across Vhaldrynn’s helmet. The blow knocked Malleus’s head back causing the traitorous paladin to stumble backward in retreat.
Vhaldrynn quickly regained his footing and brought his blades up to bear. “The old lion still has some teeth, I see,” he smirked.
“I mean to put an end to you, Vhaldrynn, here and now.”
“You caught me, but it seems as though you aren’t fast enough to get the mortal strike,” Vhaldrynn observed.
Ian could feel a sticky wetness coming down the left side of his torso inside his armor. There was a burning, shooting pain like a hot poker being stuck into his ribcage. Vhaldrynn had sliced him there with a blade. Ian grimaced and tried to block out the pain. He retreated a couple of steps and sent a healing beam of light from his shield hand over the wound to mend it as best he could. Ian did not have time in battle against this deadly foe to heal the wound properly.
Ian again hefted his shield and moved forward towards Vhaldrynn. He had to be ready for the next opening and end it then. There would not be another chance.
Vhaldrynn smiled and began to bob and weave as a cobra might before striking. He jumped forward again slashing and striking at Ian.
Ian sent blade after blade glancing away and then saw the opening he needed. He stepped in and realized a second too late that he had been duped. Vhaldrynn had lured him with a false vulnerability. Vhaldrynn stepped back and to the side as Ian came forward, catching Ian’s swinging hammer with a blade turning it away harmlessly. Ian tried to bring his shield down quickly to block the next blow, but Vhaldrynn was faster. Malleus’s second sword blade caught Ian under the arm and razor sharp steel pierced into Ian’s side. Vhaldrynn used his forward momentum to drive the blade in deeper. All the strength went out of Ian’s body and he collapsed to his knees. Ian’s hammer fell from his hands and blood began to run in rivulets from his mouth.
Vhaldrynn grabbed Ian by the side of his helmet and pulled his head close to his own. “Where is your god now, paladin? He has abandoned you as he abandoned me,” he hissed into Ian’s ear.
Vhaldrynn kicked at Ian’s midsection pulling his blade out and knocking Ian over onto his side.
“Before you die, I want you to know that I’m going to enjoy having you as part of my army,” Vhaldrynn crowed. “Oh, that Markkus could be here as well to witness this and join you. But that will be soon enough.”
Ian convulsed and gasped a final breath. The light of life went out in his eyes.
Vhaldrynn took a deep breath and brought his hand up to his forehead as though a terrible headache suddenly afflicted him. He extended his other hand, fingers out towards Ian’s body. A pale beam of silver light issued from his outstretched hand into the vanquished paladin’s body. Satisfied, Vhaldrynn walked over to his black charger and hoisted himself into the saddle. He did not see Ian’s eyes begin to glow with a silver light. He did not see Ian pull himself up to a standing position and begin to lurch forward. Vhaldrynn did not need to witness this transformation to know it was happening.
Lord Ian Arkon, one of the twelve primus paladins and Supreme Commander of the Order of Paladins, fell into line with the Risen Dead.
Chapter 34: CAVORTING
- Duchy of Franconia: Month of October, Year of Our Lord 1241.
Having traveled for better part of the day, Camila and her fellow paladins brought their war column to a halt near a small brook that ran close to the heat-baked, hardpan road. It would be a good place to take some refreshment and water the horses before trekking onward under the blistering sun. They were making great time and should join up with Lord Arkon’s forces within a day. There was a stand of trees near the stream and many of the soldiers took temporary refuge from the sun’s unrelenting rays.
Camila found a nice shade tree to sit against and take the weight off of her legs. She was exhausted and bone weary, especially from the battle with the warlock scouting party. Lack of sleep had caught up to her once more, her eyelids becoming so heavy that she soon gave up trying to keep her eyes open. She would just rest her eyes for a moment she promised herself. She would not let herself go to sleep. She only needed to rest for a bit.
* * *
Camila was lying completely naked on her back in a vast field of tall, thick grass that seemed the color of gold in the intense, bright light of the day. A warm, gentle breeze blew over the grasslands causing the plains to shimmer in the heat as though it were a mirage. The sun was an enormous, white-hot sphere in the sky, the heat of it baking her flesh, but not unpleasantly so.
Camila’s smooth, ivory skin was aglow, as though set afire from within, and dripping with sweat. Her head was tilted back, neck arched and straining; the sleek, vulnerable flesh of her throat exposed. Her mouth was open in a silent cry of intense pleasure. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed exquisite ecstasy.
