by Brian Murray
“Damn old bones,” he muttered grumpily. He peered up at the stars and the moon that sat low in the sky, half hidden behind silhouetted rolling hills. He had started dreaming about his home when he was younger, when a beast’s growling dragged him back to reality. He strained his hearing. The growling started again, this time louder—closer. The old master-magiker cursed. He did not know what manner of beast made the noise, but he sensed it was not natural. The Dark One or his twin must have summoned some evil beasts using their black necromancy.
Gan-Goran could not venture far from the cave to warn the women and men in Thade’s home as this would break the spell keeping the five friends alive. He rushed back into the cave and knelt by his friend, Dax.
“Dax, if you can hear me, we need your help. Hurry please. The women are in danger,” Gan-Goran pleaded. “Please Dax, hurry, I’m powerless to save them.”
***
The bright light had momentarily blinded Zane when he opened the door to the dungeon. Now, he stood alone in a spotlight surrounded by pure darkness.
“Dax!” he called out, fear causing his voice to quiver. No reply. “Thade? Rayth? Tanas?” Again, no reply—Zane stood alone. He turned full circle and called out, “Hello, is anyone there?” Fear started to rise from the man’s soul. He heard a clicking noise behind him.
Slowly, Zane turned to face the noise—the unknown.
***
Thade blinked away his temporary blindness and was surprised to find himself in a lit circle. Instinctively, he drew his two gladiator short swords. “DAX!” he yelled.
No reply.
“Hello!” he called. Again, no reply. Thade was about to walk out into the darkness when he heard a sound behind him.
Slowly, the former gladiator turned, instinctively taking up a fighting stance.
***
Rayth opened his eyes and found himself in a circle of light surrounded by almost palpable darkness. The axe-wielder stood motionless, his mind racing. He wanted to call out, but knew that his voice would betray his fear. So, silently, the former axe-wielder waited for the unknown. In front of him, the sound of footsteps came closer and closer, growing louder and louder.
***
Tanas did not know where he was, but his senses screamed that danger surrounded him. He knew a duel loomed so he hastily tied on his scarf, instantly comforted by the feel of the cloth over his eyes and the darkness. He split his quarterstaff to form his two short swords. He heard the sound of someone in armour walking approach him and bowed his head.
He concentrated and calmed himself.
***
Dax opened his eyes and looked around into the darkness that surrounded an arena made from a circle of light. Something told him that he stood alone and it was pointless calling out for the others. A faint voice whispered in his mind. It was Gan-Goran’s voice. Dax could not make out the words, but from the tone of the man’s voice he knew that something was wrong, very wrong. Dax did not know if it was a memory or whether Gan-Goran had called him from the realm of the living. Either way, he pushed the thought from his mind. Dax drew his two short battleaxes and stood in the centre of the circle, waiting.
From behind him, Dax heard the sounds of someone walking towards him. Slowly, he turned to face the sound. The footsteps stopped just outside the circle of light. Dax could only hear his own breathing. He calmed himself and waited for whoever—or whatever—to enter the circle.
A gladiator stepped into the circle of light and faced Dax. The gladiator stood a head taller than Dax and wore a full-faced brushed steel helm and no tunic. He was dressed in black leather leggings and matching calf-length boots. In his hands, the man held two short gladiator short swords. A blood fight, thought Dax. Then came wimping. Dax instantly recognised his former wife’s voice.
The gladiator attacked.
***
Zane tried to calm himself as a man entered the circle of light in front of him. The man carried a large curved tulwar and was dressed in a fur-rimmed helm, no tunic, and a leather kilt with calf-length boots. The man had a flat face with deep, almost black eyes, and a grim line for a mouth. The man’s chest was criss-crossed with scars both long and short—this man was a warrior. Zane knew he faced a Kharnack chieftain, but did not know which one. From the darkness, screaming and pleading started. The voice was Aurillia’s.
The Kharnack smiled and stalked forward.
***
The footsteps drew closer and Thade prepared himself. He gasped when the warrior entered the circle of light. In front of Thade, motionless with his weapons resting on his calves, stood the image of Dax in his gladiator outfit. The image, like Dax when he entered the arena, did not wear a helm and only wore old, torn brown leather leggings and tatty brown moccasins. In his gloved hands, the image held the two short battleaxes. Instantly, Thade’s mind drifted to one of several conversations he had had with Dax . . .
***
“Boy, believe me when I say this. In my prime you could not even scratch me.”
“I know you made Gladiator Prime, but so did I. What makes you think I could not take you?”
As usual, Dax just smiled and touched his index finger to his temple. “Just feel lucky you never had to face me, boy. Did you know, I had been offered a fortune several times to fight my own student?”
“Fight me?”
“Yes, fight you. And you know what, even now you could not take me,” said Dax without any derision in his voice. “That is a fact. Now, let’s leave the subject be.”
***
In the circle of light, the image of Dax raised both his short axes, crossed them before his chest, and stalked forward.
***
Rayth waited impassively for his opponent to enter the circle of light. To his surprise, a former axe-wielder entered. Not just any axe-wielder, it was General Alan D’Asher, the greatest ever axe-wielder. The warrior wore full battle armour and Rayth recognised the general’s winged helm and the distinctive axe embossed on the man’s breastplate. No other axe-wielder had dressed like this before or since the legendary General Alan D’Asher. Rayth could just see the man’s pale blue eyes through his full-faced helm. The general carried a huge, butterfly-shaped double-bladed axe like Rayth’s own. Rayth drew his own battle-axe from its harness and waited. The axe-wielder opposite him waited motionless and the sound of his metallic breathing filled the air.
***
Tanas cocked his head to one side, waiting for his opponent to enter the circle of light. The footsteps stopped and Tanas knew the warrior had paused several paces away. The warrior drew his weapons and Tanas recognised the distinct swish sounds of two short swords being drawn. He could not hear any other sounds from the armour nor could he see white light gleaming off the polished silver metal.
The warrior did not hesitate and attacked Tanas, his blades a blur.
***
Dax was momentarily put off by the sounds of his wife crying and just managed to parry the vicious onslaught from the gladiator. Dax shut out the sounds of the pitiful weeping and anger grew inside of him. The sounds evaporated. The gladiator attacked again, aiming for Dax’s chest, but this time Dax met the man full on. The steel of his axes clanged loudly against the gladiator’s swords. The gladiator pressed forward and struck out again, aiming for Dax’s neck. Dax stepped backwards, constantly blocking wild hacks from left and right. In the background the weeping started again, but this time his wife’s voice called his name over and over again. Distracted, Dax was forced back as negative emotions swept through his body. Primal rage washed over him. He blocked another hack from the gladiator and the two men locked weapons. Dax pushed the man away from him, his eyes blazing.
“ENOUGH!” he roared.
***
The screaming distracted the young Rhaurien king and he just managed to block a series of hacks from the Kharnack chieftain. Zane fell down onto his back and rolled clear as the Kharnack chieftain chopped down, his blade clanging against the ground.
; The sounds of Aurillia’s screams filled Zane’s mind, his soul, and he tried desperately to defend himself. The Kharnack chieftain screamed a war cry and leapt at the young king. Holding his tulwar with two hands, the chieftain chopped and hacked at Zane, who desperately defended himself. But the screaming and crying filled the air, and Zane could not block it out. He stumbled again, saving himself from decapitation as the Kharnack drove forward pressing for the kill. Zane regained his footing and edged away from the chieftain.
***
The Dax image stepped in closer to Thade. Thade backed slowly away, staring into the warrior’s blazing violet eyes. Suddenly, the Dax image attacked with such ferocity that Thade fell down, still trying to protect himself. Thade rolled clear just as the Dax image stabbed down, aiming for Thade’s throat. Bright orange sparks leapt into the air where the axe’s blade struck the ground. Thade circled the Dax image. Negative thoughts filled his mind; the fear of defeat, of death, engulfed his heart.
The Dax image sliced his axe high towards Thade’s neck, but the former gladiator blocked the hack. With his other axe, the Dax image slashed out at Thade’s belly. Thade swayed his body and deflected the axe aside with a loud clang. The Dax image struck with a huge arching chop, aiming to crush Thade’s skull. Thade blocked the crushing chop with both of his swords crossed above his head. Realising he had left himself open for attack, Thade threw his body to the left, just avoiding a disembowelling slice. Gingerly, he rose.
The two circled each other again.
***
Tanas met his opponent head on. Both of the men’s swords moved with such speed their blades were a blur, as a constant din of metal striking metal resonated in the air. Both men moved with perfect grace and balance as they continued their dance of death. The armoured warrior sliced high, which Tanas parried and with his other sword stabbed towards the man’s groin. The warrior blocked the stab, rolled his wrist, and counter-stabbed towards Tanas’s belly. Tanas blocked the thrust to his stomach and his momentum caused him to roll around the man. The warrior flicked out one of his blades towards Tanas’s throat, but he parried again.
The two men circled each other, Tanas with his head bowed, concentrating.
***
Rayth remained motionless staring at the legend that stood before him. The great General Alan D’Asher stood motionless with his battle-axe in his hands.
“Alan D’Asher,” whispered the former axe-wielder.
The general’s helmet moved to one side but he said nothing. The general stepped forward towards Rayth.
“I don’t want to fight you. We are brothers in arms. I’m Rayth of the Axe, a former axe-wielder and a Rhaurn. You, sir, are my hero, the greatest axe-wielder in history.”
The general hesitated, then took another step towards Rayth.
“I am Alan D’Asher and I have been told you would try and trick me. I am here to kill you.” The general’s voice boomed with an echoing metallic edge from his full-faced helm. “You say you are an axe-wielder, but you don’t look like one.”
“I was an axe-wielder, now retired. I fought the Kharnacks in Ractenack Pass and stood alone whilst my comrades ran.”
The general stopped approaching the old warrior. “You are him?”
“Yes, I am,” replied Rayth proudly.
“Then let’s see.”
***
Ikin was another Royal Lancer who had escorted King Zane from the battlefield at Teldor to Thade’s home. He had been proud to serve his king so closely and was even prouder to now be defending him and his family in their hour of need. He sat in the undergrowth, thinking back to the charge at Teldor. He had seen nothing nor dreamt of anything as hideous as the creatures that streamed down the hills towards Teldor. Even now, weeks after the event, he still woke up in the night in a cold sweat, stifling a scream. Ikin sighed to himself at the thought and dreaded being relieved to relive his nightmares. But the thought of hot food picked his spirits up.
Tonight, he sat alone away from the house in silence. Something had been bothering the Royal Lancer, but he could not put his finger on it. Then he heard a deep, rumbling growl. A lone large cat, he thought, but not this far north.
Unexpectedly, a roar pierced the air.
Ikin jumped at the sound and quickly fumbled a bolt into his crossbow. The leaves to his left rustled. Ikin jerked around and accidentally let the bolt fly. “Stupid!” he chastised himself. “Stay calm.” He reached back to his quiver and pulled another bolt free. The growling grew. He knew a beast was close. At his right the leaves rustled. Ikin’s hands shook uncontrollably and he tried to calm himself. He looked up at the sky and watched the wispy clouds move lazily before the large, looming moon. It could be just the wind, he mused. Suddenly, from his left the undergrowth burst into life and something massive leapt towards the Royal Lancer. Ikin fell onto his back and fired his crossbow, but the bolt was still in his other hand. No noise, that was what bothered the Royal Lancer—no noise. That was Ikin’s last thought as he screamed. His death scream was cut short when the Wraith Hound chomped through the Royal Lancer’s throat, covering its maw in crimson.
***
The first death scream pierced the night’s silence. The high-pitched shriek was murderously cut short. Then silence—the silence of death.
The women inside the cabin jumped at the sound and looked fearfully towards the window. Men ran about outside the house, trying to establish who or what was attacking them. The captain of the axe-wielders entered the warm living room in the cabin.
“Your Highness,” started the captain, addressing Queen Larene. “We’re under attack. I think it’s those beasts I mentioned earlier. Please stay in this room, lock the shutters, and bolt the door behind me.”
Without another word, the axe-wielder turned on his heels and left the room.
Larene did as instructed and bolted the double-doors shut. Cara moved to the window and peered out into the night. In the distance, Cara thought she saw some shapes moving—beasts running on all fours. But as soon as she saw them the creatures disappeared, merging with the night. Another loud gurgling scream sounded. She pulled the shutters, slamming them into place, then bolted them close.
From outside the house came the sound of men running around, calling out names. Orders were issued with urgency apparent in the voices of command. More screams erupted into the air, but all were cut short.
Inside the house, the women armed themselves with pokers and knives, huddling away from the door and windows. More and more screams filled the air. Orders of “Attack!” and “Defend the queen!” cried out. Shuffling footsteps scraped on the porch outside, followed by two loud thuds on the porch floor—then total silence. Not sound came from outside, only the cracking of the fire in the hearth and the women’s heavy, panicky breathing broke the.
Growling started just outside the window. The sound was deep and guttural. The Wraith Hounds clawed on the windows and outer doors, taking out huge gouges of the wood.
***
Outside the Black Palace in Yallaz’oom, the axe-wielders fell beneath the power and sheer numbers of the Caynians. Captain Jamie had received several cuts and now fought next to only twenty-one other men. Surprisingly, the Caynians retreated. Captain Jamie looked around at his fallen men and said a silent prayer. He then gazed at the men who stood at his side. All of them had lacerations and one of the men had lost the use of one arm. The men also sported dented helms or breastplates, but all stood grim-faced, waiting for the inevitable. Jamie himself had lost his helm and blood streamed from a gash across his forehead. Using the back of his hand, the warrior wiped away as much blood as possible, trying to stop it flowing into his eyes.
“Why did they stop?” asked one of the axe-wielders.
“Maybe they needed a breather, I know I do,” replied another.
“Men,” started Captain Jamie, “they have never tackled the likes of us. We have bruised them and killed their kin. I’m proud to have walked this journey with you—you are al
l the best. Now let’s finish these beasties and go.” He raised his axe aloft. “Axe-wielders!”
“WE!” bellowed the last of the axe-wielders.
The men charged into the Caynian ranks. The Caynians met their charge head on, chopping and hacking at the remaining warriors. Finally, after a matter of a few minutes, only Captain Jamie remained standing with several more cuts to an already bloodied body. The Caynians again backed away from the man. Captain Jamie felt weak from the loss of blood and dropped to one knee. The next thing he realised, the crusty ground scratched his face. He did not remember pitching forward. Jamie forced himself over onto his back so that he looked up at the black sky as flakes of grey gently rested on him. In that moment, he thought of Zane and prayed he had completed his mission. A Caynian loomed over Jamie. The axe-wielder gave the creature a bloody smile.
“Hand me my axe,” commanded Jamie.
The Caynian paused for a moment, then shrugged its shoulders, reached down, and placed Jamie’s axe into his hand.
“If I had the strength, you whoreson, I would cut you down,” added Jamie, still grinning.
The Caynian returned Jamie’s smile and lifted its huge broadsword. Time slowed. Jamie watched as the blade arched down towards him. Then . . . darkness.
***
“I shall not forget your help, Captain Jamie of the Axe-Wielders. Go in peace and join your comrades. Thank you for the service you freely gave.”
A bright light beckoned Captain Jamie. He realised he no longer had any wounds and his armour and axe gleamed brightly.
“Thank you,” said Jamie, his voice choked with emotion. When he entered the light, he heard the sound of his men cheering.
***
The Caynian looked down at Captain Jamie’s decapitated body and gave it a nudge with its boot. For some reason, the Caynian expected the body to rise up and attack again. But it did not. With a grunt of approval, the Caynian marched off towards the palace.
***
Dax looked at the gladiator who opposed him; his violet eyes were aglow with pure rage and hatred.
“So you want to dance. Let’s stop playing and dance the dance.”
