by Philip Blood
Gustin listened intently for a moment and then exclaimed, “Yes, build the fire quickly!”
Drake frantically tossed wood onto the flames, which voraciously attacked the new meal.
Gustin watched the shaking Drake finish putting the wood on the fire and he noticed that Drake was wide-eyed and sweaty; panic was near to the surface. “Are you all right, Drake?”
“I’m so scared Gustin, I want to run and I don’t know what to do, help me,” pleaded the young man to his friend.
“It’s all right Drake, I understand. There is still time for you to reach the horse picket and try and catch Hetark. I will stay and slow down the monster.”
“I can’t leave you to die alone, but I can’t face this thing. G’lan help me, Gustin, tell me what to do!” Drake collapsed to his knees in the dirt, his mind in anguish from the fear of the creature and from his loathing of himself for being a coward.
Gustin reached his large hand down to the small man and pulled him to his feet. Taking hold of his shoulders he looked into his friend's eyes and said, “I’m not alone Drake, Dern is with me. Go on, I want you to go and help Hetark; I’ll delay the creature for awhile. Just promise me this, if you have to face the creature before it reaches Elizabeth I’ll expect you to face it like the knight I saw in front of those soldiers. When that time comes I will be with you in spirit, you won’t be alone; do you understand, Drake?”
Drake looked with shame into Gustin’s intense face and nodded, and then he quickly turned and ran away toward the horse picket.
Gustin picked up two torches and lit them in the fire. He turned and faced the evil creature approaching through the darkness, his large body silhouetted against the flames of the fire. He waited peacefully for certain death and the destruction of his soul. He was afraid, but not alone, he could feel his brother Dern within and readied himself to do his duty.
Lord Pellev Welter, the foster brother of Lord Jatar and ruler of Tazlany, was camped with his retinue twenty leagues away from Tarnelin. The wagons and picketed horses were circled around a large fire in the center of the camp. Lord Welter sat on a chair and stared into the flames with his mind in a faraway place. A sentry approached his ruler and waited silently until he was acknowledged.
“Yes, what is it?” Pellev asked.
“Milord, a man has approached the outer sentries and says he has important information that he will only say to you. We searched him and he doesn’t have any weapons. What do you wish us to do with him?”
The ruler of Tazlany lifted his right eyebrow in a show of curiosity and then said, “Bring him in, under guard; I’m curious to hear what he has to say.”
A short time later the guards brought forward a simply dressed man and stopped him ten paces in front of their Lord.
Pellev studied him for a moment: the man was dressed in a long dark cloak with a hood that was thrown back and his boots were dirty as was the lower portion of the cloak. Lord Welter quickly surmised that the man had traveled some distance. After his inspection, Pellev said, “So my good man, what possessed you to seek out the ruler of Tazlany on this dismal night?”
The man looked nervously at the guards that were present but decided to speak anyway. “I am an agent of Olsk. I received word from one of my companions that you are no longer happy with the policies of Lord Jatar.”
“You could say that we had a falling out, but that is common knowledge, what of it?” Pellev replied gruffly.
“I have been commissioned by representatives of my government to offer Tazlany the quiet support of Olsk in protecting your borders against any intrusions by Lindankar’s army,” he explained in an official tone.
“What makes your government think that Tazlany needs any help?” Lord Welter asked, with a raise of his left eyebrow.
“We only make this as a friendly offer of assistance, we do not mean to impose on Tazlany in any way, nor will we march any armies across your borders during our conflicts with Pruta and Lindankar. My leaders sent this message as a way of pledging our friendship, so as not to put Tazlany in a position where you had to publicly declare your intentions,” finished the Olsk representative.
“I see, well thank your leaders for their tact, but I cannot promise any mutual support at this time. I still have much to settle and I must speak with my advisors before I would make any weighty decisions. Guards, escort our friend to the edge of our camp and release him,” Lord Welter instructed.
After the guards had left, Pellev went back to contemplating the flames and the only sound he made was a simple, “Hm.”
Gustin heard the sound of Drake’s horse as it galloped away down the forest path and then all was quiet except the crackling of the fire.
His thoughts followed his fleeing friend: Don’t blame yourself too much for what has happened Drake, it will ruin you. I just hope that your fear hasn’t already destroyed that brave little man I knew. There was a time when you would have stood up to Ancient Vorg himself with a mischievous grin on your face and a flip remark for his ears. Don’t lose that wonderful ego; it is who you are.”
Then Gustin’s thoughts turned to his brother Dern: So Dern, how do you think I’ve done? I know that I was only a knight for a few days, but I did my best. Things just went crazy suddenly. I know it’s fruitless to worry about what has already passed, but I need your help, brother. I’ve sworn my life to protect Michael Ardellen and the time has come to pay the taxman. Help me to be strong Dern. I must stop this dark monster for as long as possible so that it does not reach Drake. He fears the death of his soul more than I. To me death is death, no matter what its form. I will fulfill my oath, and under no circumstance will I let that thing get to Michael! He is Lindankar’s hope, perhaps the hope of the entire world. I cannot allow this beast a swift and easy victory, so help me withstand the pain Dern, and then I can die in peace knowing my friends will make it to safety.”
Out of the night, a huge rotting corpse walked up on the stumps of its two ankles. Pieces of the green rotting skin were missing in places and its stomach was split open, the entrails hung down to the ground and dragged along behind. Its mouth was missing both lips, but somehow the grinning black rotted teeth opened and spoke to Gustin, “Good evening, Sir Knight. A fine night for an outdoors dinner, yes?” spoke the voice of splintering and snapping knuckles to the lone Gustin.
“Is that foul image supposed to scare me? Go back to your dark, worthless world, you disgust me,” Gustin commanded.
“What is your name, brave mortal, I want to remember it with the taste of your particular soul,” the Darknull replied.
“I am Gustin, son of Yul the Blacksmith, come and burn in the light of my fire, you sick creature of the dark,” he stated bravely.
“As you wish, fool!” The Darknull sprang forward to envelop the lone human.
In an effort of will, Gustin forced himself not to run. He lifted his two torches before him and began waving them in the pattern he had seen Hetark use to fend off the creature.
Baron Qyrmswav easily avoided the torch fire and rapidly shifted around the sphere created by Gustin’s sweeping torches, he said, “You make a pretty display, son of Yul, but how long can you maintain your dance?”
“Not long, but I don’t have anything better to do right now,” Gustin replied, but he thought: Long enough to allow Drake, Hetark, Elizabeth and Michael to reach the safety of the Kirnath.
“Your friends left you here to die alone, was your wounded body slowing them down?” the Baron asked, trying to anger his opponent into a mistake.
“What makes you think I am wounded?” Gustin asked.
“I can see it in your life force, the flames burnt you as well, didn’t they?” the creature asked with glee.
“I’d welcome the caress of the flames over your foul touch any day,” was Gustin’s immediate response.
“Perhaps I will let you survive while...” In mid-sentence, the Darknull darted to Gustin’s side and attacked.
Gustin felt the pain on h
is side and naturally spun to face the onslaught, but that brought his back away from the fire.
The incredibly quick Darknull shifted around the body of the wounded knight and attached itself to his unprotected back and the Baron immediately began to consume Gustin’s soul.
Gustin tried to reach the fire again, he knew he could not succumb this early or the creature would soon be after Drake. If he could burn the creature off in the flames he might be able to resume his battle. The pain from the attacking creature was too great and Gustin’s body was just too weak from his wounds and he collapsed short of the fire.
A loud bellow split the night and through his pain the fallen knight heard, “I’m coming, Gustin!”
Gustin looked up through the flames of the fire and saw an apparition. It was a wild-eyed and insane looking horse with spittle trailing from its mouth. The horse launched itself over the flames of the fire and Drake clung to its back as he forced the crazed horse to obey his commands in the face of its fear of the Darknull’s presence.
The horse cleared the fire and Gustin’s sprawled out body, coming down just beyond.
Attached by a rope to the horse’s saddle, a large, oil soaked bush trailed along the ground and the skittering thick tangle of branches crashed right into the large fire and exploded into flames. The impact knocked hot coals and sparks all over Gustin’s prone body as well as the Darknull.
The Darknull detached itself from the knight’s back with a howl of pain as the burning bush drug across both their bodies.
When the alien creature detached from Gustin’s soul the knight decided getting burnt by fire had never felt so good.
The flaming bush continued past Gustin and he managed to shake off the pain and stagger to his feet. Somehow he still had his two torches clenched in his hands.
Drake’s mount had gone beyond even the small knight’s expert control, between the fire and the Darknull’s presence the horse went completely wild. Drake leaped away from the horse and landed purclaw-like on his feet. Without pause, he swept up two of the spare torches from the ground, spun around and went back to back with the staggering Gustin.
Gustin lit his friend’s torches from his, and they readied themselves for the attack of the Darknull.
“Welcome back Drake, what convinced you to return?” Gustin asked his friend between gasps for air.
“I remembered how clumsy you were with those big feet, so I knew I better come back and help you up,” Drake replied lightly.
The return of their friendly insults told Gustin that Drake was truly back; he had conquered his fears. Gustin felt elated, but he didn’t let that emotion show in the tone of his answer. “I had it right where I wanted it,” Gustin replied glibly, but after a pause added, “but thanks, Drake.”
“Actually, I really came back because you are my best friend, and I would rather die beside you than live knowing I let you face this ugly beast alone,” Drake said honestly.
“I’m glad you’re here Drake,” the big man replied.
“So am I Gustin, so am I,” Drake answered, his fear overcome.
“Do you see it anywhere?” Gustin asked, peering into the dark.
“No, but it’s out there; I can feel it. We better keep its attention; we can’t have it going after Michael.” Then he raised his voice into a shout, “Come on out, Baron of Bile, I have a little fire I want to shove down your throat!”
“So, the little coward returns. Will you face me now, scared mortal?” the Darknull answered, the voice in their heads sounding like the hissing and bubbling sound of a man speaking through his freshly slit throat.
“I’ve got you placed in proper perspective now, puke face. You can kill us, but I won’t waste my spit on you,” Drake replied. Then he whispered over his shoulder to Gustin, “Quick, help me insult this thing, we don’t want it leaving us and going after Michael.”
“Right and we’re just the guys to do it,” Gustin acknowledged, and then he remembered something Elizabeth had said to the beast the night before. “Listen to this one!” he whispered to Drake and called out to the Darknull, “I hear the necromancers are using you Darknulls for errand boys nowadays.”
Out of the dark, the Baron howled in total madness.
Drake elbowed his friend lightly and said, “I think you struck a little nerve with that one.”
The Darknull’s voice called out to them and incredible hate pounded at their minds. “The necromancers will all be consumed once we have found what was lost! Until then we use THEM for our needs.”
“What was lost?” Gustin muttered to Drake, in a puzzled tone.
“You got me,” Drake whispered in reply, but then called out, “Oh what horse manure; I heard the necromancer in Lindankar claims to have a pet Darknull he uses to spit shine his boots.”
With another insane howl, the Darknull rushed to the attack.
Gustin sighed, “I think that did the trick.”
“Right,” Drake replied dryly.
The foul creature struck without care for the pain of the torches, it virtually slammed into the two knights in its insane anger. They shoved their torches into the creature's body and it began to attack their auras. All three beings yelled with pain as they all toppled to the ground. Drake lost one of his torches and Gustin was very weakly trying to bring his into play. The knights were dying, but they had to hold the Darknull as long as possible.
Slowly the creature began to consume their life spirits.
Drake’s face was near Gustin’s and he whispered through pain clenched teeth as they fought the creature, “It was a good try, big man.”
Gustin was barely conscious when he replied. “I’m glad you’re here, my little friend, at the end. Do you think they will make it?”
Near his own limits, Drake answered weakly. “We must believe they will escape Gustin, we must. Do you hear horses?”
“Yes, by Vorg’s rancid breath, that’s all we need! It’s the rest of the Tchulians come to help this beast. Well if they hurry and kill us this thing can’t finish destroying our souls.”
“Always the optimist...” Drake managed to gasp as the light began to fade from his eyes, his voice croaked out a whisper, “Goodbye, Gustin.”
Also fading, Gustin managed a weak reply, “Good-bye, my friend.”
Michael began to cry from his place in the pack slung on Hetark’s back. The past few days had been hard on his mother and his knights, in other ways they were also hard on the young child. His mind didn’t understand this massive break in his daily routine. Being cooped up in the pack for lengthy periods and then the gallop of the last few hours had finally taken its toll. He’d been out now for some time, but woke to renewed fits of crying, tired, sore, hungry and not understanding why. He wanted his food and his mother, not necessarily in that order. He announced these desires in the only royally commanding voice he had at his disposal, he cried his lungs out.
Elizabeth had not awakened since she had fallen to the ground the night before, but at the sound of her son calling her eyes fluttered and she raised her head and muttered, “Michael?”
Hetark felt her taking control of her balance, so he slowed the horse to a walk.
“Where are we, Hetark?” she asked tiredly, not yet really focusing on her surroundings. She pulled wisps of hair out of her face with one hand.
“Somewhere near the Kirnath School, milady,” Hetark stopped the horses and let Elizabeth down so that he could retrieve Michael off his back and hand the crying boy to his mother. Then he said, “You must get mounted on one of the other horses, we have little time.”
“But, we can’t be near the school, it lacked only five bells until dawn, and it’s still dark.”
“We have traveled a complete day and part of another night, milady,” Hetark explained.
“Wait, it’s coming back to me… what happened to the Darknull? Where are Gustin and Drake?” she exclaimed in concern, suddenly twisting around hoping to see them coming up from the rear.
“W
e all survived the attack, thanks to the protection of your powers, but you collapsed after you struck the creature with that beam. Gustin was burnt the worst, but after bandaging, he was all right. We waited by the fire until morning in case the creature came back and then we rode all day as fast as possible. We were trying to reach the school before the creature caught us again,” Hetark recounted.
“Then where are the others?” she asked in a puzzled tone.
“It became dark and Drake decided that he could buy us time to reach the Kirnath School by delaying the Darknull, and Gustin stayed to guard his back. They convinced me that it was necessary for your and Michael’s survival. I had to get you two to safety,” Hetark explained simply, but the pain of that decision was obvious in his tortured voice.
“That’s horrible; you know that they can’t stand against a Darknull, Hetark! We must go back and help them!” Elizabeth said, turning to get to her mount.
“We cannot, milady. I left them over two bells ago, so it is probably too late. Besides, look in your arms, can you take him back into the danger of the Darknull with your power already used to its limits?”
With a haunted look, Elizabeth gazed back down the path toward where her brave new friends were meeting their doom for the sake of her and her son. Tears welled up in her tired eyes and crested over the edge, carving trails down the dust on her cheeks to fall a short distance and land gently on her son. “You’re right Hetark, but I swear that I will avenge their deaths and my husband’s, I swear,” she said quietly, but forcefully.
“Can you ride?” Hetark asked the grieving woman.
“Yes.”
“Good, we must get on our way in case the Darknull gets past them,” Hetark said, changing his saddle to a new mount.
“Hetark, it will get past them,” she said, placing her hand on his arm.
“I know,” he replied, not meeting her eyes. He didn’t want her to see the haunted expression they held.
