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Part 5: The Druid and the Demon

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I dashed up the stairs, as I had nowhere else to go, and they looked quite promising because I wanted to get a look at my army to see what state of readiness they were in, and I thought I’d be able to see from the top.

The stairway was dark, and I slipped a few times, only steadying myself with a hand upon the soggy moss-covered floor. After a minute of this treacherous climb my eyes were struck by a ray of light which emanated from an arrow-slot in the stone wall. By chance it was unattended, so I was able to look out.

I gasped in surprise! My force was making ready to go into battle against Castle Ramir already, and my task was not completed yet. I had clearly stayed asleep on my arrival for some time before I came around.

Now in a hurry, I rushed on up the stairway.

Soon I came to the top of the stairway. There was no door, only a stone arch, so I had to crouch down while I studied the scene. Fortunately there was another, larger, door nearby, and everybody seemed to come and go through there.

I found myself to be at the head of a flight of stairs which led straight up to the ramparts, which were being patrolled by an assortment of orcs, Deodm, Slard, trolls, and even one or two traitorous humans. Such men can be found everywhere, who for some reason reject their own race and work with their natural enemies. The same could be said of some trolls, orcs, Deodm and Slard, although these tended to be more good-humoured than their compatriots.

I knew one troll in particular, Barzad Kroif, my favourite drinking partner at Jhul Zhirov’s Inn, on the road that joined the great cities of Kalhor and Halvion. Old Barzad had been a good friend to me, I thought, wondering what had happened to him recently, and also wondering why I had agreed to lead the Rondarians into battle. True, it was my homeland, but in my travels I had grown to love the cities of the south just as much. It was probably because I wanted to be the hero of the land once more. I had asked Barzad to come with me, but unlike the turncoat humans he found it impossible to go into battle against his own race. So I had left him behind in Zhirov’s Inn, swigging at his distinctive barrel of ale.

Bringing my thoughts back to the matter at hand, I saw the forces of the Brotherhood amassing in Castle Ramir’s huge courtyard. The four races of evil did not mix, but each set stayed in their own cohorts. More and more soldiers were coming up to be stationed on the ramparts. I had time to see the druid standing in the shadows of a huge turret before I heard the rush of footsteps behind me. I leaped out and strode towards the nearest soldier in as authoritative a manner as I could manage, as a score of orcs rushed out of the stairwell.

The soldier happened to be a Slard, which was all the better for me, as he would be easier to fool than a sharp-witted human. He turned and saluted to me as I approached, which was a good sign.

“At ease, soldier,” I said to him. “Who sent you up here?”

He pointed to a human at the far side of castle wall that we stood upon. I was at the leftmost end, he at the rightmost.

“‘Twas Ropik, lord.”

“Well, you have new orders, from Druid Malthor himself!” I paused a moment for maximum effect. “A spy is trying to fight his way up those steps, and you must stop him. He may be in disguise, so don’t take any chances, kill any who come. Understand?”

He nodded mutely.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” I shouted at him. “Do your duty, soldier.” He ran off towards the stairway through which I had arrived, flailing his sword ferociously. That would protect my back for a while. I smiled, pleased with myself. I heard shouts of anger emanating from the stairway, to my enormous pleasure, but suddenly the human, whom the Slard had named as Ropik, started to holler and point in my direction. The troops stationed upon the rampart began to run towards me. As there were about fifty of them I began to worry.

I sprinted towards them, hoping to kill the forerunners swiftly in order to gain some more time before the main body of them reached me. The first I came to was an arc and I lopped his head off without slowing. The second was a well-built Slard, but luckily I was able to cleave his skull without much exertion. Since he was so stupid, he still managed to deal me a stinging, but thankfully not deep, wound to my forearm before his brain got round to telling the rest of his body that he was dead.

The next warrior reached me almost immediately after the Slard fell to the floor, and he tripped over the body. As the poor Deodm went sprawling past me I delivered a strong kick to his head, breaking his neck immediately.

Then a group of about ten more Deodm closed with me simultaneously, and I fought for my life as I would fight for no other. I fared quite well, ducking, weaving and even striking when I could, and killed three, only taking light wounds, until a huge troll waded into the fray.

The troll lifted me between his huge hands, and began to walk towards the edge of the battlements. The others stood back, comprehending the creature’s purpose.

I did too, and I slashed my sword against his arms with all my strength, but I was unable to make any impression upon the tough hide. He lifted me high above his head, and I saw my chance to strike. I brought my sword down heavily, plunging it deep into one of his eyeballs.

The troll was slain, but it did me no good as he toppled over the parapet with me still in his hands. Then I was falling and falling and falling.

I know it may seem inappropriate at such a thrilling moment, but let me tell you a little about Castle Ramir. It is set upon the peak of a mountain. A small mountain, but a mountain nevertheless. Long ago, when true men still ruled the north, they had cut away the front of the mountain, leaving a sheer, unassailable face in front on the castle. Which meant that any prospective invaders from the south, already tired from a journey through the Ulmarks, would have to travel round to the other side, which had had to be left whole to support the castle. Then, in the days when none knew of the eldritch power or of the existence of the foul forms in the far north, their position had appeared good. Unforeseeably, this had meant that it had been relatively easy for the evil spawn of the north to invade the castle, and that now we would be able to stand a chance to regain the castle. I was falling down this sheer cliff. Back to the tale.

I wrenched my sword free from the troll’s face and wiped it on his clothing, then I re sheathed it. Looking down I saw that there was still some time to go before we hit the floor. Terrified, but trying to keep my thoughts in order, I began to pray to Myerl. Although I found it hard to pray with the wind whistling past my face, I finished and opened my eyes.

I was amazed to see that the kientish ring had started to glow a strange colour. Looking down, I saw that the troll was falling a lot faster than I. As we should have fallen at the same speed, I put two and two together and decided that the ring was preventing me from falling too fast.

After a few more moments I was floating down, slowly as a feather, and I thought myself to be safe for a moment. I heard the splat as the troll’s lifeless body hit the ground far below, doubtless showering all around with bits of innards. I have always thought trolls to be dirty creatures.

Suddenly I heard a great beating of air, as if by giant wings. I turned, and saw a creature that made my flesh crawl.

I was confronted with a gigantic black beast. Bat-like wings sprouted from the body of a squirming maggot. Steaming fluid seeped out of every joint, falling to the ground, burning all those who it splashed. I saw my army scatter at the sight of this profanation! Its head had no eyes or nose, but only a giant mouth with clawing mandibles, and rows of teeth glinted at me as I stared into its horrific maw.

Then I saw a creature sitting on the animal. It was smaller, but no less horrific to look at. Now I had seen this demon I could see massive straps holding the saddle in place. So this thing that gusted great breaths of nauseating fumes at me was no more than an underling of this other, who I thought to be the Demon-Lord, Gursval.

The Demon-Lord threw back his head and began to shriek. The terrible noise was clearly audible above the beating of his steed’s wings but it was a moment before I realised that he was speaking to me in the language of men.

“You will die, Captain Pall Rochefort. Nothing will avail you know. You are lost, and Myerl cannot interfere.” I reached for my sword. “Do not bother, little man, as nothing you have has any use.”

I dwelled on what he said a moment, before the import of what he said reached me, and I remembered the words of Myerl – “the box you must use when all else seems to be of no use” – and I reached in my jacket for the box.

The Soul Swallower and his demoniac beast sneered as I tried to open the box, but despite all my anger I could find no way to open the thing. It had no catch or lock, and was completely smooth. In fury at my own impotence I threw the casket at the pair of demons.

With an almost arrogant motion the steed snatched the box out of the air with his mandibles, and swallowed it, as if to show me the futility of all my works.

Much to my surprise, the Soul Swallower screamed in terror and pulled toughly at the reins which he held in his hands. The beast he rode began to shake in great convulsions, but it was to no avail, as the box remained lodged in its guts.

Then I saw that the maggot-thing’s body began to burn red, and it wailed in pain. The Demon-Lord was now standing on the creature’s back, trying to leap off but it seemed that his foot was caught in the strap. Then he gave up, and both demons gave a final soul-destroying cry of despair, before the maggot-creature began to burn brighter. Then there was a gargantuan explosion.

I saw the two demons disappear in a ball of flame before the shock­waves of the blast reached me, and I was knocked unconscious.

“Hervac, my friend,” I said to the Warlord, “I want the money to be used to build a shrine to Myerl here in Ramir.”

“I am surprised, but it will be done as you say. But first, can you tell me what happened up there? You are a hero now, but nobody knows how you did.”

“‘Tis too long a story, but I can tell you that I have surely earned myself the title of Godsbane!”