by Kyle J Cisco
“Lovely décor,” Natasha murmured.
Virgil almost laughed, but a thud on the door that separated them from the dwellers drew his attention back to the situation at hand. Claws scratched, rapped, banged upon the door, splintering the wood.
Thud. Thud-thud.
Virgil’s knees began to quake. What if he couldn’t keep the pendant lit? The pendant’s light started to dim as the doubts slipped in. Taking a deep breath, Virgil attempted to clear his mind in preparation for battle.
Thud. Thud. THUDTHUDTHUD.
Virgil slowed his breathing and spoke the incantation of Light into the pendant while mentally threatening the inanimate object not to fail him. The light of the pendant wavered. A stream of curses flowed through his mind. The flickering began to slow, and then the light went out. Virgil cleared his mind and willed for light to flood into the room. The pendant flickered back to life and steadied into a continuous flow of light into the chamber.
“Prepare yourselves!” Virgil said, drawing his battle-ax.
“Keep your head in the fight, orphan, and try not to get yourself killed.”
The door cracked . . . and the wood paneling snapped off the door. The words on the inscription flooded back to Virgil’s mind as he slipped the pendant around his head. Gripping the ax with both hands, he hoped this place would not become his tomb.
The wood splintered more with every thud against the door. Then, in a giant crash, the door broke free of its aged hinges, releasing a flood of pale bodies into the room. A bolt struck one of the dwellers in the center of its forehead a split second after the door buckled. Another of the howling creatures flailed, struck in the neck by one of Jack’s daggers. The creature gasped and grasped at its throat in a feeble attempt to stem the river of blood which leaked from the fatal wound.
Virgil and Jack let out a howling war cry, charging into the melee of enemies. There seemed to be about ten of them all together, not including the two that lay dying by the threshold.
The shrine room broke into chaos as swords clashed with claws and bolts whizzed past. Metal clanked on bone and dwellers howled as steel met flesh. Swinging the massive ax in a wide arc, Virgil staved off the oncoming dwellers and their poisoned claws. One of his strikes flung two of the foes directly in front of him into the column of dwellers behind them. Jack’s broadsword lashed out, taking an arm from one as his shield bashed the face of the pale dweller into a blackened, bloodied mess. The dweller crumpled before him.
Virgil pressed the attack, driving the creatures back toward the threshold of the door they had come through. Bolt after bolt flew past Virgil to strike the next two creatures standing before him. Neither were incapacitating strikes, but it allowed for Virgil strike out with his ax and cleave through the one’s skull, splitting it in two separate pieces before it too slumped down against the black walls near the threshold of the shrine room.
More dwellers piled into the door, pushing Virgil back. A dozen more of the frenzied creatures poured in. Jack and Virgil fell back to the altar to regroup with Natasha in a corner of the room.
Natasha had been firing away with her repeater crossbow, stopped only by the thunk of an empty cartridge. She dropped the weapon and drew her blades, rushing into the battle, spinning to dodge the blows reaching out for her from dwellers left and right.
Claws slashed out at Virgil; there was no time for a response. The yellowed talons dug into Virgil’s leather armor and caught on the pendant, severing the chain around Virgil’s neck. The light fell to the floor.
The clink of the pendant was lost in the maelstrom of battle. Shadow cloaked the enemies as the light barely illuminated the gnarled faces of the dwellers from below; the room sank into a hazy purple shadow. In the dark, Virgil reeled from a blow that missed his throat but tore off the left shoulder pad of his armor that now lay useless on his upper arm.
Natasha ducked another blow, slitting one creature’s throat. The other attacker caught her full in the chest with a slash that sent her back several feet. Virgil could see the shadow of her figure crash into the wall on the other side of the altar.
Frantic, Virgil began to move toward his fallen companion, shouting to Jack, “Natasha’s down! Stay here.” Virgil swung his ax in a wild swing, slicing through two dwellers in one swing.
A gruesome image of Natasha’s lifeless body entered into Virgil’s mind. Stealing a glance at the other side of the altar, he saw Natasha slumped against the black walls of the shrine room. Her chest heaved with exhaustion. As Virgil hacked off another head to move one step closer to Natasha, a lone dweller approached her. She dropped the dagger that remained in her hand to the floor and closed her eyes. To Virgil, it seemed like time stood still. Grief flooded in, but he pushed the thought aside. The pendant’s light blazed as Virgil grasped his ax low and launched it toward the frenzied dweller. The heavy two-handed battle-ax struck the dweller in the back, smashing him into a nearby pillar.
Instantly, Virgil felt a burning sensation which started to spread up the back of his right leg, accompanied by a tingling sensation. Hot liquid seeped down his leg as it gave out beneath him.
Blows came at him from all angles. He snatched his dagger and sliced; blood splashed Virgil’s face as the dweller’s throat opened in a river of black blood. Others fell all around him. He looked up and saw it was Natasha who had dropped the foes which surrounded him.
“Time to get up!” she said, spinning around to cut another of the pale creatures.
Virgil scrambled to his feet, his leg screaming in hot pain. Virgil shifted his weight, leaning on the altar as he fought back several strikes that came at him from some of the remaining foes. The room grew darker still as bodies hit the floor, further obscuring the light from the pendant.
Something shook the floor of the shrine room. A loud boom echoed. Dwellers halted, then rushed toward the exit of the room.
“You have all come to die for the dark lord. You will be worthy sacrifices used to rebuild his strength.”
The entire party spun around to see a cloaked figure standing in front of the shrine, surrounded in inky vapor that poured out of the base.
“This place holds great evil. You would be wise to bow to its power or you shall know of true suffering.”
“Mind your tongue, demon,” Jack said, moving to stand between the ominous figure and his companions. “We are servants of the Light.”
“Stand aside, mortal. My business does not concern you. I have come for him.” The figure stabbed a pale finger at Virgil. Cold ice trickled down his spine, as if to freeze his soul.
A ragged cloth covered most of the thing’s face, but the mouth sneered in the open air, revealing a row of sharp teeth, black and decayed. A jagged and gnarled sword materialized in the figure’s hand as it walked down from the altar toward Virgil.
“I warn you, demon—do not to take another step,” Jack said as he dropped his shield and sheathed his broadsword, drawing out his longsword.
The figure spoke in an ancient tongue Virgil did not recognize. Then he stretched out his hand, conjuring a tendril of dark black energy which wrapped around Jack’s neck. Squirming under the ethereal assault, Jack’s large blade clattered to the floor. The figure hurled Jack into the far wall of the room with a flick of its wrist as easily as one shews a fruit fly from a rotting apple. With dagger in hand, Virgil matched the approach of the figure.
“What do you want from me, demon?” Virgil said, standing tall in the face of such evil. But inside, his heart pounded like a war drum.
“Your life,” the figure retorted as it began to circle Virgil. “Do not toy with me, Virgil of House Novak. You think that chance has brought me here on the eve of your final trial?” The thing’s voice was deep but raspy, as if it had gone unused for decades.
House Novak? Isn’t that the bloodline of Dvorak the Conqueror himself? It must have me confused with someone else, Virgil thought. Aloud he said, “That is not my name. I hold no titles.”
“Can you be
so ignorant? You know not of your own lineage?” The figure let out a hacking, savage laugh.
“I’ve heard enough from you.” Virgil raised his dagger, but before he could move, Natasha charged forward with a fury Virgil had not seen before.
The figure dodged the slashes from both of Natasha’s blades with supernatural speed. The jagged sword responded in rapid succession, knocking the dagger from Natasha’s left hand. The demon grasped onto her right wrist while he raised Natasha’s body off her feet, dagger still in hand, dangling her body before him just like a spider admiring a fly caught in its web.
“You dare strike at me, girl?”
Natasha flailed wildly.
Enraged, Virgil charged headlong to meet his foe. The figure turned his blade, meeting Virgil’s dagger, and heaved Natasha behind him. Virgil went red with rage as Natasha crashed at the base of the altar.
The light from the pendant flickered as it lay dormant on the floor, the white light fading to a scarlet hue. Virgil threw out a fury of blows, striking at a speed that almost overcame his enemy. The blades clashed into a stalemate with Virgil now face-to-face with the figure. The rank smell of decay emanated from the figure and the blood-soaked rags that covered his face.
“Yes, let your wrath consume you, blood of Dvorak. Do you feel the power coursing through your veins?”
In response, Virgil landed a left-handed uppercut squarely on the Faceless One’s cheek, bashing some of the bandages loose.
The figure landed a strike that bit deep into the leather armor covering Virgil’s right arm.
His adrenaline surged, making Virgil oblivious to the blood that flowed from his wounded arm. But not for long. Pain flashed through his body as the foe’s gauntleted fist crunched into his face, jarring a few teeth loose and bloodying his nose. Virgil staggered back, his eyes blurred from tears. Defenseless for only a split second, Virgil held up his empty hands in a feeble gesture as he glimpsed the demon’s arm raised to strike the final blow.
The clash of steel on steel caught Virgil off guard. He glanced up to see a large great sword crossed with the jagged blade of the figure. Stemming the bleeding from his nose, Virgil plucked his dagger up from the floor and rushed forward as he shouldered the figure, pinning him up against the wall. He drove the dagger deep into the Faceless One’s side, eliciting a shriek of pain. A burst of dark energy blasted Virgil and Jack back, slamming into the altar and clattering to the ground.
Natasha, who was unscathed by the burst of energy, rushed into the melee. Her two daggers went to work, making whirling patterns that deflected the blows from the enemy’s sword, while she looked for an opening that would allow her to take back the advantage.
It came. The figure overextended on one of its strikes while one of her blades slashed the Faceless One’s wrist deep enough to make that hand go limp and lifeless. The jagged sword fell.
Virgil lay dazed on the ground, his vision blurred. Near the altar, he saw Natasha fighting in the defense of her companions, gracefully slipping from one strike to another. She ducked a blow and sliced his knees with her knife.
Jack’s armor clanked as he got to his feet, drawing his broadsword from its sheath. He jumped into the fray, meeting a savage punch meant for Natasha’s head.
Jack caught the fist in his own and delivered a headbutt that would have incapacitated any normal man. This foe, however, was not normal nor even a man. The Faceless One staggered back a step but was left unscathed.
“You think you mere initiates can defeat me? I have been fighting since before your forefathers were even a thought. I wield powers beyond your wildest imagination.”
And just like that, all of the weapons the initiates held grew red with heat, forcing the wielders to drop them.
“Playtime is over. Now it’s time to die, whelp of House Novak.” At those words, the very ground shook and temperature dropped in the shrine room.
The Faceless One stalked toward Virgil, who had regained enough of his strength to make it back to his feet. Virgil’s nose bled profusely and the wound on his shoulder throbbed, but his chest felt worse. His ribs were either cracked or broken, and bruises covered his body.
Ignoring the pain, Virgil charged in to fight the Faceless One hand-to-hand if need be, but the demon merely held out a finger and stopped Virgil in his tracks. Dark purple clouds swirled around his limbs, arresting him in place. The demon gestured with his finger and Virgil’s knees yanked him to the ground.
As the Faceless One strode forward, a tendril of black energy reclaimed the jagged sword from the ground.
“Behold the power I command. Do you think yourself worthy to stand against me and live? Now you shall witness the wrath of a true disciple of the Darkness,” the Faceless One said as he raised the sword in the air, poised to finish off Natasha first.
“No!” Virgil screamed.
When he opened his eyes again, the Faceless One’s arm hung frozen in place. The hand holding the blade shook with effort as it struggled to bring the sword down upon her.
Natasha took only a moment to recover before scurrying away.
Virgil looked within himself and focused on the one thing he wanted more than anything at that moment. To save his companions. He felt a surge of power flow through his body. Opening his eyes in surprise, his hands tingled and twitched with energy, burning hot white. The chains of black energy looping his limbs began to dissipate into nothing.
Unsure of how to use this power, Virgil did what he thought was right. With a savage throw, he put all the force he could into the motion, willing the energy at his enemy. A large ball of white energy came from his hand and flew toward the Faceless One. It exploded on a barrier of black energy and faded into a gray cloud.
The attack gave Virgil the surprise he needed to charge forward, grabbing his dagger off the ground and sprinting at the Faceless One. He threw a punch with his left hand that caught the foe unawares and followed it up with a thrust with the dagger that nearly missed but managed the split the figure’s gnarled lip and break it in two. In response, the Faceless One threw punches of his own, but Virgil countered each one and threw in a few of his own. Every one of the blows that landed flashed with a magnificent light, pushing the Faceless One closer and closer to the door to the shrine room. Meanwhile the room basked in the light that flowed from Virgil and his pendant.
Virgil landed a strike that forced the Faceless One almost out of the room. The Faceless One spoke once more in the unknown tongue, then threw his hand forward, letting loose a wall of black energy. Virgil covered his face but the icy blast smashed him into the ground, driving all the air from his lungs.
“Even if I fall, human, you will never stop the tide of Darkness that will sweep across the lands of mankind.”
“You underestimate the strength of men, demon,” gasped Virgil. “We are not frail.” He gathered his breath and pushed himself off the stone floor. “We have faced Darkness before and overcome it, for we have something servants of the Darkness do not. We have hope, along with the will to endure any challenge.”
Dropping his dagger, he raised both hands and sent forth tendrils of white energy, lifting the Faceless One from his feet. Hot energy raced through his veins as Virgil released all of the force he could muster into one untamed blast.
Nothing could be seen through the explosion of light. The aftermath, however, was unmistakable. The door to the shrine room had been shattered; only a large hole in the wall of splintered stone remained. Virgil retrieved the pendant and moved with caution toward the hole. Dust lingered in the air. Out in the great hall, he found his foe staggered against one of the ornamented pillars.
Virgil grabbed the figure’s cloak and yanked back the hood. A putrid smell assailed his nose. A gnarled visage lay beneath the cloth, crusted with gore. Deep blue veins ran like estuaries down the pallid skin of its face and neck.
“More . . . will come, Son of Dvorak. They will never stop . . . hunting you,” the Faceless One said as he pulled a dagger from h
is waist and drove it deep into the side of Virgil’s ribcage. In another blast of black energy, the Faceless One was gone just as quickly as he appeared.
Virgil turned toward his companions, the knife still buried in his side. He felt his legs begin to waver beneath him from the pain of the wound and the massive expenditure of energy he had used throughout the battle. Virgil collapsed to the floor, lodging the knife a little deeper into his body.
Virgil’s companions rushed to his aid. When Jack rolled him over, he called to Natasha for the bandages. The wound on Virgil’s shoulder was not deep, but the loss of blood worried him. Virgil’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head as consciousness began to slip away.
“Virgil, you need to stay with me,” Jack said, smacking his cheek to keep him conscious. Then he reached to remove the knife.
“Mother of Light,” Virgil gasped, “that shit hurts.”
Hot pain lanced his side as Jack wrenched the steel blade from his body. The pain was almost too much to bear.
“Just rip the damn thing out and get on with it.”
With one final yank, the blade came free. Blood streamed out and pooled on dusty floor. With the flash of pain and sudden chill, Virgil finally faded into unconsciousness. Virgil awoke in a panic as he reached for his dagger, but the blade was not there.
“Rest easy,” Jack said. “You have only been out for a heartbeat or two.”
Virgil knew it was longer than that. But it seemed as if his wounds were bound, and they could continue through with the trial. Anxious to get out of the caverns, Virgil stumbled to his feet. As soon as he rose, his vision blurred and began to fade to black.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa there. I would not go moving like that yet.” Jack held a hand to steady Virgil before he passed out again.
“Here. Lean on me. You are not passing out again, for I am not carrying your ass back to the Hall of Light,” said Natasha as she ducked under Virgil’s wounded arm.
Too weary to protest, Virgil let Jack and Natasha flank him on either side as they made their way through the great hall and back into the caverns on the other side.
