Peril & Profit

by M. H. Johnson

  With a hatred so fierce Sorn now saw only red, oblivious indeed to the bolts sticking out from his armor, Sorn once again spun his war mace in terrible two-handed arcs as he tore into the rows of disciplined troops before him.

  He punctuated his blows with terrible shrieks of rage, and the morale of these crack archers, positioned ideally to take men down quickly under a terrible rain of fire, quickly dissolved as they realized how helpless they were against Sorn's inhuman fury. Neither discipline or panic would stave off the living nightmare before them, and panic the surviving marksmen did, struggling desperately to flee this nightmarish figure as the elegant mosaics and tapestries adorning ceiling and walls alike steadily turned a uniform shade of crimson.

  In what seemed an eyeblink of time to him, the crossbowmen had all been downed, many twisted shapes all but unrecognizable, only to be replaced by a teaming mass of roaring swordsmen, frantically striking at Sorn in the chaotic mass of all-out melee combat.

  "Elissa!" Sorn roared yet again, shuddering a moment as a well-aimed blow from a determined Empire swordsman tore free two of the bolts sticking into Sorn's forearm, causing him an involuntary gasp of pain.

  The wide-eyed look of exhilaration on the swordsman's face soon became one of stunned disbelief as Sorn caught the sword of this lightning quick blademaster, who had at that moment lunged forward to plunge his blade into what he thought would be a stunned knight's visor. Yet Sorn's gauntlet had snapped forward with a surprising speed of its own, catching the blade and holding it momentarily rigid for all the frantic yanking of its owner. Sorn's steel gauntlet remained unscored by the blade in its unshakeable grip, inhuman strength allowing him to flick it away effortlessly to clang against the wall behind him. This he did while simultaneously lashing out with his own war mace in a fearsome one-handed arc that pounded into the gaping swordsman's side, sending him spinning to the ground as a gout of frothy blood erupted from the man's mouth, the hideously distorted chest giving mute testimony to the terrible force of the blow that had ruptured ribcage and organs alike. So great was the damage to the man's body that he was unable to emit even a final gasp or shudder, only his eyes blinking in mute horror before they too faded over with the glaze of death.

  Yet Sorn paid no mind to the devastation his blows caused, attention focused solely on the next blade that needed to be blocked, the next swordsman that rushed madly at him, only to be sent spinning away in a spray of crimson by the force of Sorn's rage-feuled swings. He was focused only on his own terrible need, his vital quest, and every frantically charging cluster of soldiers was simply another obstacle between him and the one he desperately sought, to be dealt with as quickly and as savagely as possible, before charging onward toward his goal.

  He felt as if the very world shook when his acute ears finally picked up the faint cry he yearned so desperately to hear amidst the clamor and crash of battle.

  "Elissa!" Sorn roared, this time in desperation and hope both. "I come!"

  With that he charged down the corridor to the horde of men he saw just ahead, seemingly bent on making an orderly retreat, supposedly having gotten what they came for, deeming any further objective too hazardous, in light of the terrible being now stalking the halls for them. Perhaps they had thought that the last squad sent to intercept him would have had better success than the first, Sorn's still slightly throbbing wrist giving mute testimony to the adroit skill of those highly trained troops.

  Yet whatever the case, the looks focused Sorn's way were the wide-eyed stares of men gazing at the horror of their own demise. Perhaps they had caught a glimpse of Sorn's savage butchery, the seemingly unstoppable force with which this black knight tore into his foes. They had no way of knowing that even now Sorn could feel the very fibers of his being tingle and throb, saturated with so much of Elthsiss's essence that they were but a hairsbreadth away from uniformly collapsing. At which point Sorn would be obliterated entirely, immolated into a pile of superheated ash that may, or may not, take out the palace entire. Only Sorn was aware of the terrible storm of power coursing through him that he sought desperately to harness and control, without it consuming him entirely.

  Perhaps as well the Empire's soldiers had at last caught sight of the hundreds of Caverenoc troops now flooding the hallways at the heels of the horrific black knight even now charging toward them. Caverenoc's other knights, now on foot right behind their champion, could be mistaken as nothing else by dint of the field plate that covered them from head to toe like Sorn, roaring forth their impromptu battle cry: "For Caverenoc! For blood and honor!"

  At that moment Sorn roared his battle cry in unison with theirs and the last vestiges of morale in the Empire's forces shattered, the soldiers struggling desperately to get past one another, as Sorn and his fellow knights crashed into them with the fierce cry of steel pounding into steel.

  Panicked screams served as a dissonant counterpoint to the crash of broken bodies slamming into the walls or collapsing in shattered heaps upon the blood-soaked tiles. Sorn all the while venting his terrible war cry, and the knights roaring in turn.

  It was with a terrible ache of hope that Sorn at last caught a glimpse of a drooping figure dressed in silks that could only be the princess through the crimson spray of yet another enemy soldier sent crashing to the ground, forgotten instantly as Sorn strove mightily to catch another glimpse of his princess. He saw only a glimpse of what looked like tightly bound ropes cutting into her fragile flesh, the very sight of which sent Sorn flying into a frenzy that was, if anything, greater than before.

  His terrible war mace weaving a deadly violent dance, Sorn tore through the remaining soldiers blocking his path to the princess with renewed savagery, utterly ignoring the desperate final strokes of poleaxe and spear that clanged futilely against his armor before being shattered alongside their owners via his inhumanly powerful blows.

  In another time and place he would have considered his lapse foolish indeed, despite all the fury laden strength he was able to bring to bear, for one spear managed to leave its mark, tearing into his eyelid. An expertly timed blow that was only prevented from puncturing his very eye by his lightning fast reflexes and terrible essence enhanced resilience both. Sorn's scream was one of frustrated fury as he once again lost sight of the princess, the vision from his left eye becoming crimson-laden in truth. Venting forth a roar to do Elthsiss proud, Sorn proceeded once again to plod through the opposing men with a terrible savagery, paying particular attention to shatter any spears before they came within an arm's length of him. His going was of a necessity slower, but the results were very thorough indeed.

  32

  The Caverenoc crossbowmen and infantry running rapidly at the heels of the knights upon clearing out the outer courtyard were shocked by the devastation they beheld as they caught up to their kinsmen. For by the time Sorn and his knight companions had broken through this final wave of resistance, hammering their way into the armory proper, not a single enemy soldier who had crossed their path had survived. Indeed, most were barely recognizable as men, whether by dint of the terrible blows rendered by Sorn's deadly war mace, or the more infrequent savage cuts delivered by Sorn's well-armored vanguard. For the knights, deep in their own battle-fury, had ruthlessly dispatched those soldiers who had avoided being in the direct path of Sorn's devastating blows.

  Indeed, the crimson drenched walls the wide-eyed reinforcements jogged past gave mute testimony to the savagery of the avenging knights who had led the charge to reclaim the palace.

  Never again, perhaps, would the knights of Caverenoc be viewed solely as pampered athletes sent to contest against one another to settle disputes between city-states. For the carnage the infantrymen and archers strode through gave mute testimony to the implacable battle prowess that were the hallmark of a well-trained knight. Only later would they come to learn the even more shocking truth, that the great majority of enemy soldiers had been laid low by one man alone.

  Only in those few seconds that Sorn gave paus
e did Caverenoc's main forces catch up with the knight vanguard. The knights themselves paused a moment, heaving for breath as Sorn, whose blood-spattered countenance many of those same knights viewed with an awe reserved for figures out of legend, strove mightily to catch another glimpse of Elissa and the king as well.

  Sorn was desperate to know just where Elissa and her father were, before he charged headlong into enemy forces once again.

  There. At last he spotted her. In the middle of the armory no less, where Sorn could only assume the entrance to the tunnel connecting the castle to the enemy forces was located. Sorn could just barely make out the slumped countenances of what looked to be Elissa and the king being slowly led through the press of milling soldiers to what Sorn could only assume was the entrance to a tunnel. A tunnel that no doubt lead to the very heart of the massive army outside Caverenoc's walls and, Sorn feared, Elissa and her father's certain doom.

  "There!" Sorn shouted, vaguely aware of the battle companions who had shadowed him as he made his way through the final passageways to the armory. It was important they too know where the princess was located, so that they did not strike her or her father by accident.

  "Some four men deep! Guard your strikes and beware of crossbows!” Sorn barked out to his companions. “For blood and Caverenoc!"

  With that Sorn raised his arm to guard his visor as he raced toward the milling mass of soldiers, several dozen carefully placed troops on the perimeter raising crossbows and firing even as Sorn charged, no doubt seeking to delay Caverenoc’s forces as long as possible while their brethren fled, hoping to take out a few knights while they were at it.

  "For blood and Caverenoc!" The knights cried in unison as they charged in Sorn's wake, raising their shields against the sudden onslaught of crossbow bolts that still managed to bring one of their number down.

  For Sorn, it was almost a torment to be so achingly near his goal, yet have his path impeded by soldier after soldier doing all they could to bar his way. Blocking his terrible need to be near his princess at this time of dreadful peril. Wiser to desperate lunges by spear and sword both, Sorn's stance was more guarded than it had been before, though his blows were no less furious and the results no less devastating. Only his pace was slower, his progress maddeningly slow to his own eye as he crashed through the whirling tides of battle until at last, there! At that very moment, Sorn caught a glimpse of a struggling Elissa, somehow managing to have ripped free her gag, now screaming desperately as two grim-faced soldiers steadily dragged her toward the gaping pit amongst shattered floor tiles that enemy troops were even now jumping down into as fast as they could. The view of what lay beyond the hole was blocked by the soldiers milling around it, and his view of Elissa was cut off once more as the flow of battle again brought the press of soldiers to Sorn's path.

  With a screech of pure frustration, Sorn tore through his terrified opponents, once more headless of defense as he crashed through their lines, frantic to get to Elissa's side. Each moment seemed a desperate agony until at last, he broke through, just making out the glimpse of Elissa's shrieking struggling countenance being manhandled into the tunnel below. His vision tunneled. His eyes took in with painfully exquisite precision every detail of her desperate struggle to escape the clutches of the guards grimly shoving her deeper into the hole.

  He noted the scratches on her tender face, the bruises on her frantically struggling arms, her heaving chest, only half covered by her torn and badly stained dress as she struggled violently to get free. Her eyes. Her eyes shook Sorn to his fiery core.

  Her gaze was one of mindless terror, that of a creature staring straight into the face of death.

  "Elissa!" Sorn shrieked, catching a second glimpse of her panicked gaze, her eyes raising for a split second in what could only be called a terrible glimmer of hope, as he charged with superhuman speed into the men forcing her below. One of the burly men cruelly manhandling Elissa was all but obliterated, as his rough form met the full fury of Sorn's hate-filled swing.

  Even armored flesh had no hope to resist the savage force behind Sorn's massive steel rod, the soldier's shattered form sent crashing into the armory walls some fifteen feet away in a fine mist of crimson. So utter and complete was the damage that had been wrought with that single stroke, that the ruptured body collapsed as would a sack of bloody grain, now all but unrecognizable as anything human. For all its fury, it had been a strike precisely controlled as well. For Elissa, save for a fine red spray gracing her startled cheeks, had been completely untouched by the force of that terrible blow.

  In the next instant, Sorn had grabbed the neck of the second soldier manhandling his princess, and with a single furious squeeze and a savage shake, Sorn slackened the man's grip on Elissa forever. Offhandedly flinging the limp corpse away, war mace forgotten, Sorn was now mindful only of his princess. Pausing only to whisper soothing nothings to her visibly shaking and whimpering form, Sorn quickly and so very gently scooped her up out of the tunnel, spinning around to quickly carry her back to Caverenoc's rallying troops, all but cradling her in his now empty arms.

  Sorn exulted to see that his battle companions had indeed cleared the way, leaving a tremendous wedge in the remaining enemy forces and a clear path for him to bring Elissa to safety.

  Sorn's smiled, though of course none could see it, and his heart was filled with a sudden warmth for these brave men who had fought by his side. Valiant fighters for whom he now felt a camaraderie towards as if they were his own kin. Indeed, no few, Sorn could tell from their half-visors, were smiling in what looked to be exultation at him, as he rushed forward with their princess.

  Though what was this? Those triumph filled expressions soon turned to ones of surprise and horror, and Elissa had started screaming anew. Only then did Sorn realize everyone seemed to have grown, for he had to tilt his now dizzy head up to see them, or was it simply that he had shrunk? Ah, no, that wasn't it. He had fallen to his knees and was at that moment using one arm to balance himself, so he would not topple over completely.

  One of the knights was even then approaching the pair, his weapon sheathed, though the knights to either side were crying out with what seemed outrage and fury as they charged with raised swords to either side of Sorn.

  Strangely, their voices wavered in and out and they looked kind of hazy. Ah yes, they still had to rescue the king. Very gently, Sorn pushed Elissa to the arms of the waiting knight. The knight gave Sorn a look of deep sympathy before turning away and gently bringing a still shrieking Elissa back to the safety of her troops and away from the din of battle. She too gazed at her savior with a terrified sorrow, though Sorn could not tell why, pointing at him and yelling something to her protector as he led her off.

  No doubt she knew they needed still to rescue her father, Sorn reflected, quite cleverly he thought, realizing as he contemplated the issue that it was getting harder and harder to think, and that he didn't feel anywhere near so angry anymore. Still, he would do his part to save the kind king who had favored a youth he hardly knew with genuine friendship and affection.

  Resolving to leap once more and valiantly tear through enemy soldiers to the king's side, Sorn only then realized that he was lying flat, face first on the ground.

  Only then did he notice the curious throbbing burn emanating from his lower torso. After recovering from the momentary shock of the flash of pain that lanced through his abdomen like lightning when he touched it, Sorn gently felt the contours of the massive siege bolt plunged into his back.

  Strangely, he was no longer angry at all. It seemed that his fiery passions from but a moment ago had slipped into the same hazy realm as the yelling and roaring he still vaguely heard seemed as if from miles off.

  No doubt a lot of this was due to having successfully saved his princess, as he had striven so fiercely to do, and he was now feeling the peaceful aftereffects of a job well done. Of course, he realized, he could also be in shock and slowly dying from blood loss at this very moment. Strangely, this
didn't seem to trouble him greatly. If anything, he wanted to laugh, but was afraid of the jolt of pain this might cause him. Far better, he thought, to let the cool numbness embrace him. And indeed, the battle, which already seemed far off, soon faded to a hazy whiteness and he could feel himself begin to drift away like a feather carried swiftly down a roaring dark stream.

  "Sorn, Sorn!" As if from a far off distance, Sorn's peaceful daze was being interrupted by an increasingly annoying buzz that soon made itself out to be none other than the voices of his cousins.

  "Cousins," Sorn muttered in agitation. For even coming out of his reverie far enough to respond left him suddenly aware of the throbbing pain that echoed through his entire body like a monstrous toothache, searing waves of misery from the scalded flesh of his arms and legs an ugly counterpoint to the deep ache of the terrible wound in his abdomen.

  All of this amidst the steady background throb emanating from near every fiber of his being, which had been mercilessly stretched to the breaking point via the dreadful torrent of essence Elthsiss had instinctively poured into Sorn's form. It had given Sorn a superhuman strength and fortitude, it was true. Yet it had also come perilously close to destroying him entirely, for which now he was paying a brutal, agonizing cost as his entire being screamed its protest at being so terribly used. And this on top of an injury so severe it could well spell his doom, even now.

  Yet if nothing else, his extreme discomfort kept him focused on his surroundings, enough at least to impart a point of immediate concern. Breathily, so silently they could barely hear him over the din of battle, Sorn addressed his cousins. "Have to… rescue the king. Saw… Salrie nearby. Keep your word. Obey me. Save the king."