Vicious
Page 7
“You touched my woman!” he screamed.
Gathelaus wondered what he could have been referring to. Khanzia Partheno? Hel? Boha-Annu? Euphrosyne? The Kathulian slattern from a night ago?
“I know not your rights but will deal with you in steel!” he responded, crashing a terrible blow back at the unibrowed stalwart.
“The slut will pay when I am done with you!”
Unafraid of either the threat or attack, Gathelaus pierced the scarlet armor and sent the double-faced liar of a god retreating behind Hel, mewling like a whipped dog, while dark blood from a kidney wound spilled out splashing across his feet.
With his sword wrapped in his red fist, Gathelaus roared challenge to the remaining frost giants and they gave way to something worse.
Overhead, Gathelaus noticed a serpentine form curling out of tangible mist or smoke. Wicked red eyes glowered as sharp teeth gnashed.
Boha-Annu had come.
She gloated over the carnage. The dark goddess’s upper body was voluptuous and armored yet beneath she was a python of mountainous proportions. Born upon a sunless sea, she had swum to the surface as the veil was rent by cosmic battle that allowed all of the gods and more to watch in stunned silence.
Gathelaus stood in awe a cosmic moment.
Great clawed hands swiped at him; they tore through the air causing a whistle as they slid by.
He rolled away from those grim dark bones.
Roaring, Boha-Annu slammed her tail down sending dust and debris into the vast gallery.
A frost giant reared from the swirling chaos swinging his bearded ax. He cried out, “For Ulfhamer!”
Gathelaus dodged as Baldur leapt and slammed a dagger into the giants back.
Slicing the arm off a final giant, Gathelaus roared his eternal triumph and took the arm throwing it in the face of Boha-Annu, bloodying her venomous lips. “I deny you!” he shouted, spitting blood.
Boha-Annu lashed her tail and clawed, breaking the stones of ages but the man fought on.
Gathelaus struck back with all the fury of Valhol behind. A lightning sword blast denied her his easy death. The perfection of the new god invigorated him so.
She pounced down grasping him in her taloned fingers. Where once luscious lips were, long fangs stretched and gaped open to devour his shining heart. Her titanic python-like tail wrapped about his torso and squeezed in a deathly embrace. But the man held her jaws back with mighty reserve and spat in her eye. Combining the new and the old, man beat the serpent and put her head under his heel.
She cursed and spit toxin, her face a mask of rage. He smote the demon queen and fell from her hold, ready for more.
The audience of apostles, saints and prophets shouted her down and she in turn harkened to them with foul unutterable oaths. But the gods and devils of yesterday made their choice and denied Boha-Annu’s bid for power. They would not endorse her design against the soul of man, nor could she win full entry into the world of men.
Fading from view, Boha-Annu, Ares and Hel vanished as did the audience of gods, devils, apostles and saints all returning back to stone relief.
18. Break the Spell
Tearing off his bloody tunic, Niels said, “Euphrosyne could return with more men, we had best get out of the city if we can.”
Gathelaus was breathing hard in loud gasps. “I saw the other side. I saw men’s true souls. I even saw the dark goddess.”
“Put on this cloak that we might be somewhat disguised, lets hurry,” urged Niels.
“You saved me friend.”
“As you did me.”
Gathelaus answered, “My father always said, Be your friends true friend, return gift for gift.”
“You have, I never could have beat Euphrosyne’s Varangian guards on my own, but you went berserk and slew a dozen as well as ignoring that earthquake.”
“Earthquake?”
Niels nodded. “The earth shook as I have never felt before and I could have sworn I saw a serpent of smoke for just a moment, but it was naught but dust falling from the rafters.”
“That was not dust, not an earthquake.”
“Easy my friend, they poisoned you. Had you not gagged and split all of that venomous wine within the sepulcher I don’t think you would still be standing,” said Niels.
“No,” said Gathelaus, shaking his head. “That was real. I know it. I saw between the worlds.”
“Let us hurry, the city has gone mad,” urged Niels, taking them down the cobbled streets as looters began to destroy workshops and storefronts before them.
They rushed out into the early morning. Dawn was almost to creep over the horizon. People were already up and about and there was much chatter over the events of the night. Though as Gathelaus related to Niels it was not about them, but the murder of Alexious the Fourth by Murzuphlus who now called himself Alexious the Fifth.
“What did I tell you about court intrigues and plots? I know now, the same above as below,” said Gathelaus, as they entered the forum. He stopped a moment to look up at the Khanzia Partheno. “And you, goddess of dread darkness, you thought to lure a wild son of the north to his doom to bring back your forgotten cult? To hell with you!” he shouted.
Passersby wondered at the large man’s tirade.
“Quiet brother,” said Niels. “They may recognize us. We’ll not be able to escape the mobs a second time.”
“No, see how she beckons?” raged Gathelaus. “She wants all of our deaths!”
“He’s right,” agreed a stranger. “She beckons to the Kentsians to come take our city,” he said referring to her outstretched hand, which faced the west and toward the crusader’s ships. The ships were crested with red gloom yet again from the rising sun. More people gathered and looked up at the goddess and the murmurs grew.
“Damn you! You’ll not have my soul for your games!” shouted Gathelaus, throwing his ax. The ax struck a finger on the statue, which chipped and broke. The massive finger of marble, as large as his own arm came crashing down against the cobbles. Rather than heed Niels urging for remaining incognito, Gathelaus picked up the broken finger and battered it against the marble foot of the statue like a club, until it too shattered.
“Slut!” he called before spitting in anger.
“Let us destroy the evil omen of siege,” called yet another man in the crowd.
Gathelaus retrieved his ax and cast it up again, chipping the hand again.
Niels pulled Gathelaus back as more of the mob congregated about the Khanzia Partheno and took whatever they had to its base, breaking the foundation stone.
When they had crossed the length of the forum they looked back and the towering white colossus came down with tremendous marble shattering crack. Then farther away at the great city’s walls they heard more commotion and disturbance.
“What is it?” asked Gathelaus.
“The doge is attacking the city. We took too long in returning with the holy relic,” answered Niels. “He wanted an excuse anyway. Even if we had given him the grail hours ago, I believe he still would have attacked.”
“You are probably right. Kentsians are a greedy lot,” said Gathelaus. “What should we do with the grail now poet? I am done with such things, trouble enough for a lifetime.”
“I think if we can make it out of the city, I’ll take it somewhere safe, maybe write about it. Changing the names of course,” mused Niels. “Now how do we escape the city under siege, before we are recognized?”
“There is always a way, for a wise and lucky man,” grinned Gathelaus.
19. Escape the Walls
Trebuchet’s slammed stones against the wall and fires broke out all over the city. Black smoke wafted over the city as Niels and Gathelaus made their way closer to the walls.
“This is the only way, we’ll never get out through the front gates or even the seaward one we came in,” said Gathelaus, as he held a wet cloth over his nose and mouth.
The smoke was blisteringly hot and made vision of what was before th
em nearly as bad as nightfall.
“And once we can reach the outer wall and parapet?”
“We find anything that floats and get back to our own men, unless they break in and come first, then we simply join them.”
“I can’t help but think that the doge and Boniface sold us out and were hoping we would get slain,” said Niels.
“You’re right, and they’ll get theirs, but not until this over and we can slink into the middle of the war camp when everyone is drunk and sleeping after the victory.”
“You’ve done that before?”
Gathelaus gave a grim smile. “I have had some employers from my sellswording days try and renege on a contract or two. I don’t intend on letting word of three escape these walls.”
They reached a section of wall where great wide steps led up to the outer defensive wall. A cohort of men at arms stood there with halberds and crossbows. They watched the sea where the enemy still launched stones.
Using the smoke as cover, they crept up the stairs and watched. The crusader ships seemed content to merely lob artillery at the city. There were no troop ships coming yet.
“Not good, we stay here we’ll be found out and overwhelmed,” said Gathelaus.
“What should we do?”
“Look there, a small rowboat sits forgotten beside that ten yard mark. We could jump in a and take her and row back to our ships.”
“But these guardsmen would send a hail of bolts at us.”
“they would,” agreed Gathelaus. “Unless we get rid of them.”
“Our chances of taking them all on with blades, even attacking their back is slim. I’m exhausted and you’ve already lost a lot of blood. You couldn’t possibly have the fire to fight them all. What is there a dozen men?”
“One, two, three, I think you’re right.”
“So we need another plan. Perhaps try to blend in as folk who live here.”
Gathelaus shook his head. “I don’t think we can chance that with Euphrosyne and her lot still hunting for us. We need to get out.”
Niels held up his hands, miming what do we do?
“Those lads all have armor on, they are expecting to repel our men once they actually attack. They are heavy, they’ll sink.”
“They’re not in the water,” grumbled Niels/
“Hear me out. We put them in the water. All at once quickly and even jump in after them and swim to the rowboat. We should have just enough time to make it and get out of range of any crossbow bolt, from those other watchmen, just barely.”
“That’s a helluva risk.”
“It’s our only chance.”
“Agreed,” said Niels. “But how to get them all in the drink at the same time?”
“Get a rope.”
They searched the stable and unmanned armory beside the bottom of the parapet. They found a good stretch of hemp and cut it down to a twenty-foot section.
“And then?” asked Niels, not sure he was following the logic of Gathelaus’s plan.
“We run at them. You on the left, me on the right. We catch them all just under their chin strapped helmets and leap off the walls. Taking them with us.”
“We run and jump off the walls whilst trying to clothesline the men looking out over the harbor.”
“Yes.”
“What if they hold on and we are stuck hanging off the walls? This is suicide.”
“No, staying here is suicide. No one expects a rope to hit them on the back of the neck and knock them into the water. Then we are free.”
“This is crazy, and I love it even if I think we’ll be killed.”
“We have to lose our armor before we jump, so we don’t sink like them. Or at least have it so loose that you can doff it once we hit the water.”
Niels shook his head, saying, “I don’t want to think about it because I’ll refuse if we don’t just do it now.”
“Then let’s go.”
They took off almost all of their armor, then crept up the stairs to the parapet where the dozen men crowded together talking while watching the crusader ships out in the bay. The rope hung limp between them as they sized up their opponents. The rope was a little long and Gathelaus wrapped a few feet of it about his arms in preparation for the leap.
One of the guardsmen turned around and stared confusedly at the two of them, asking, “Who are you?”
“Go!” shouted Gathelaus.
They charged at the gathered guardsmen the rope pulled taut between them. The guardsman who had seen them ducked, narrowly avoided being struck in the throat by the rope.
The line caught the guards on the back of their necks and pulled in tight beneath the sloping helmets. As Gathelaus and Niels were midair, the line went horribly tight and they went slamming back against city walls.
Niels imagined they were dead men, but then just as he let go of the rope from eth pressure of being bodily slammed, a trio of bodies were falling beside him. Then he hit the water below.
He kicked and reached the surface, half expecting crossbow bolts to zip ito the waves beside him. But there were none.
“See I told you,” called Gathelaus as he swam toward the rowboat. “It worked.”
“Barely, that almost killed me.”
“But there are no men on the wall shooting at us.”
The man who had turned and dodged the rope was shouting at them from the parapet.
“All right, we missed one,” conceded Gathelaus.
“That was vicious,” said Niels. “You are a lucky bastard.”
20. On Familiar Ground
The present
“That seems so long ago,” said Niels. “But your plans have a way of always coming to pass.”
“Look there,” said Gathelaus. “Land.”
Niels knelt his head, saying, “It’s about time. I don’t want to be on another ship for as long as I shall live.”
“Good, because all I have planned to is tow stay on dry land and win back my kingdom.”
“Where are we?”
“Looks like a coastal village halfway between Vjorn and Marence. Probably as safe as anywhere I’d imagine, since there won’t be anyone here on Vikarskeid’s pay or waiting on a bounty for my head.”
“You hope.”
“Nobody would be waiting here,” said Gathelaus.
The sloop eased into the dock and before she was even tied off the two men had leapt aboard the groaning planks and were striding toward the nearest tavern.
“I need a stout drink,” said Gathelaus.
Inside the dimly lit tavern, a man played a melancholy tune on a fiddle that was missing a string. A shaft of light from the damaged roof made all else inside seemed terrible dark by comparison.
“Two ales,” said Niels, “in the biggest mug you can find, and I want them served by your prettiest, bustiest wench!”
“That’d be Dahlia. Dahlia!” called the barkeep. “She’ll help you out.”
A pale beautiful woman with large assets was making her way toward them carrying to enormous silver mugs of foam-covered ale.
“You two been traveling far?” asked a man at the bar.
“You wouldn’t believe how far,” said Niels, as he focused on Dahlia and the large mugs.
“Try me,” replied the man at the bar.
“Let’s just say, we’ve been places you wouldn’t believe.”
“Where?” asked Dahlia. “Mankares?”
“A lot farther than that love, a lot farther.”
“Maybe all the way from the lost continent and even Hellainik before that, eh?” asked the man at the bar pointedly.
“Aw crap,” growled Gathelaus, as the sound of steel sliding from leather filled the room.
The End
For now
Continued in WRATH
About the Author:
James Alderdice aka David J. West writes dark fantasy and weird westerns because the voices in his head won’t quiet until someone else can hear them. He is a great fan of sword & sorcery, ghosts
and lost ruins, so of course he lives in Utah in with his wife and children.
You can visit him online at:
http://david-j-west.blogspot.com/
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