Swords of Steel Omnibus

by Howie K Bentley et al.

  By D.R. Lackner

  I

  The needle lifted from the fallout groove with a mechanical click, and the Earth Warrior opened his eyes.

  All around him was an inky black void. He felt no weight of gravity, and was not falling, but was cradled in the nothing which surrounded him. The silence made the ringing in his ears grow to a deafening howl. As he began to wonder to where he had travelled, a small yellow light began to glow at what seemed to be a distant point. While he stared, the yellow light became brighter and wider. His eyes struggled to adjust, and he could see what appeared to be a circular opening in the dark void; it was wreathed in slow coiling mist which dissipated into the blackness surrounding it. Within this window, he could see a bleak landscape of craggy mountains and burnt, dying vegetation clinging to the rocks. A narrow path crested the slope of the mountainside and overlooked a barren plain. Upon the peak was a rock formation which appeared as a skeletal hand grasping at the uneasy skies.

  From behind this cruel formation rose a solitary humanoid figure, unnaturally tall compared to one of earthly origin. It wore a flowing robe of deep yellow and a gray hooded mantle which obscured its features. Below on the plain could be seen the fires of a war camp, crowded by ragged canvas tents and standards flapping in alien winds. Gathered in the center of the camp were racks of jagged weapons, forged of a yellow metal. Stands like husks of great insects rested there bearing cruel armor.

  From the tents lurched cruel monstrous humanoids, their hunched forms bearing deformities both horrific and pitiful. The hooded figure reached the apex of the overlook and with outstretched arms shouted a rallying cry, followed by fierce declarations in a language the Earth Warrior knew was not of his home world, nor the common tongue of Eyrn. While the words were obscure, it was clear that these were not creatures of peaceful desires. The sounds of these words echoed in the blackness enveloping the warrior; they seemed to push him away from this vision with their weight. As the war camp howled and clattered in their armaments, building their fires with furious hatred, the mist wreathing this vision began to close in and obscure the warrior’s sight. Coiling inwards, it brought with it blackness until the vision was gone and the warrior was alone once more in the dark. He felt weightless in the dark, floating yet motionless. He looked in all directions for a sign, a point of reference, and yet found none. Time passed, and the silence once again grew to envelop him. The warrior closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he was suddenly once again in the tavern in Ardona, sitting by the fire.

  II

  The Tower Keep was no more, and yet, no rubble lay in the city of Ardona. The people there will tell that on that night, the tower began to crumble and rise upward into a swirling vortex in the sky. It left existence piece by piece, leaving only the stony mount on which it once stood. Only the Earth Warrior knew what had come to pass there in the chamber of evil magick. Only he knew of the world beyond.

  The people of Ardona had crowded into the streets. The Tower Keep had stood as a beacon of darkness for a thousand years, and a sign of hope for thousands before that. Many fled at this omen, whatever the meaning. Many feared for what it could mean. The wise men of the city knew the legends, and knew of the prophecies foretold in a distant time.

  The Earth Warrior rose to his feet. He slung his ancient shield across his back and sheathed his sword. He stepped out into the night, among the clamor and bustle of the people. He could hear song. He could hear cheer. He could hear laughter. In the midst of this celebration he noticed unsavory types gathering their wares and belongings into carts and onto horses, leaving the city with haste. Their time and grasp of the city had come to an end. He took some comfort in knowing that the people here would not bother him, knowing nothing of what had taken place up in the Tower Keep. They would not know, unless he saw fit to tell them, that he had dispatched the evil wizard Vael, and they would also not know of the prophecy which he set into motion. In his heart, he knew the doom which he had brought unto this world by unearthing the Eye of the Kings in the deep dungeons of Evermorn, yet he knew that fate was the only thing which would remain constant in his unstuck existence.

  III

  The warrior walked through the streets, seeing no sign of the Lady in Blue, the guardian who had spoken to him of the Eye of Kings which had brought him here. He walked with a lingering pace, listening to the songs of triumph recounting the night’s events, and hearing the lively talk from all corners. He offered himself a few moments to escape in thought, experiencing joy vicariously through the revelry which surrounded him. He sauntered through the streets of Ardona, unrecognized as the hero of legend long foretold, and seen only as an adventurer on his way. As he rounded a corner onto a side street, a figure in a gray cloak stood in his path. He slowed to a halt, and the cloaked figure raised his head and spoke.

  “Warrior, I know well the prophecies which once lined the great rising halls of the Tower Keep. In a distant time, the Council of Wizards made the Tower a place for all to feel welcome, and artists were invited to study the carven forms you no doubt saw in your ascent. Magick and sciences of this world flourished their once, but no more. These things took place eons ago, and yet, my Order has preserved parchments which contain the full prophecy. Come with me, we have much to discuss.”

  The warrior said nothing, and followed the old man, who turned quickly and led him to a narrow alleyway. Normally, the old man would look over his shoulder to ensure no one would see this secret entrance, yet at this late hour of triumph, all were distracted by ale and song. The warrior followed the old man down the dark alley until he stopped, not at a door, but at what appeared to be simply part of the brick wall. The old man reached out to a brick with what seemed like a crudely scrawled word of graffiti in some runic character unfamiliar to the man from Earth. He traced the lines of this word with a bony finger, and the lettering began to glow bright green. As it did so, the grout lines of the bricks around it also began to glow, outlining the form of a door. It swung inwards, leading to a stair descending into the earthen lair.

  “Quickly!” the old man said as he motioned the warrior inside. The old man took a lit torch from the wall and began his descent into the earth. The warrior’s weariness was catching up with him; the adrenaline of battle now fading and leaving an ache in his bones. He followed the old man down the long stair, which carved a path into a hidden hall beneath the great house above. Before him, the warrior saw a warmly lit room, furnished with deeply carven wood and rich tapestries on the walls. Within the underground hall, several adventurers were gathered. They spoke in hushed tones, and the warrior could not make out their speech as it was not in the common tongue he understood. A few sat at a large table, piled with not only a feast of strange roasted meats, but weapons, flagons of ale, and mysterious tomes, while there were others obscured in the shadowed recesses of the hall. Large wooden shelves bearing bound books and iron stands which held candles lined the walls. Piles of armor were carelessly strewn and alchemical tools sat piled upon an altar on one side of the room.

  “My friend! I am Immerus, and these are the Guildsmen of Eyrn,” the old man proclaimed, gesturing to the ragged adventurers. “Among us are protectors from each of the Four Kingdoms of the old wizards whose Council found a home in the Tower you sent spiraling off into oblivion. As foretold in prophecies long ago, you have arrived, both to our doom and to our hopeful rebirth. When you brought the Eye of the Kings back into the light of day, you sealed the fates of many; and yet, you have set into motion what generations have prepared for.

  “Here is he,” said the old man. “Here is he who has slain Vael!”

  A rush of silence fell over the room. The Earth Warrior caught the eyes of each adventurer. Each bore a ferocity unique. About the subterranean lair were warlords from the far corners of Eyrn. In a gloomy corner outside the light thrown from the fireside, the warrior saw the maiden from beyond the sea clad in an azure cloak.

  Immerus turned to the Earth Warrior, and spok
e to the room. “This man has defeated the demon of Evermorn, and recovered the Eye of the Kings. He ascended the Tower Keep to recover the Talisman which once housed the Eye from the Forgotten Plane of Oxuul. This Warrior has come from faraway lands unknown, as foretold in the legends of Eyrn, both to destroy and create a world anew!

  “Earth Warrior, these men have gathered here in Ardona, for the sages of their kingdoms have each kept the lore of old. For one thousand years had Vael corrupted the once great refuge of wisdom and hope, and now I present to you those who would die in service of the council of the nine wizards.”

  The wise man motioned to a man seated at the heavy wooden table in the center of the room. “From the northern kingdoms of Irethorne, Arnyr has joined us.” The Earth Warrior saw a man in a golden chainmail hauberk brooding over a flagon of ale, fiery hair and beard in braids of war. He wore the talismans and runic glyphs of his people on his arms and face, no doubt as permanent inscriptions of ink. Arnyr stood with a clamor and raised a large, two-handed axe in salute.

  “At his right is Wrathcloak, the scout from the western wilds. His allegiance lies with the kingdom of Westfold, yet this is a man of the wilderness.” A man in a wide brimmed hat looked up from a vellum scrawling and flashed a glance at the warrior, one hand holding the work of mysticism which he studied, and the other at a dagger on his belt. His cloak and tunic were the color of dust, and were threadbare with age and abuse.

  “At the far head of the table, I present Grothymn from the savage jungles south of the Mad River. The tribal council of Uthynk has sent him on behalf of their War Chief.” The Earth Warrior looked to the eyes of this warlord and saw both the fury and wisdom that the wilds will teach. Grothymn rose from his seat bearing what resembled a steel mace, barely concealing a mechanism of death within. He wore a belted hide of soft dark leather and bracers of steel. His face and exposed arms were scarred deeply from battle. He wore no beard and had wild dark hair bound back.

  “Finally, Aktai from the nomadic tribes of the east comes to our aid.” A fierce looking man in a strange hat looked to be deep in thought, smoking a long pipe; at his back was a finely crafted bow and quiver of red fletched arrows. He wore a caftan of coarse black fabric and a wide five-buckled belt. Leaning against the table at his side was a large sword, most suitably used with two hands.

  “The time to fulfill the prophecies has come, my friends!” said Immerus. “We go now to our fate, and death or glory!”

  A great cheer erupted from the room as the adventurers leapt to their feet, raising flagons of ale in a great foamy uproar. The mood of the room abruptly changed from the hushed tones and uneasy greetings. The adventurers began to sing songs of old, songs of their making, songs of their fathers, bellowing and booming joyously. The day of reckoning had finally come for the evils of the realms.

  “We have prepared a room for you. Rest,” Immerus said to the Earth Warrior. The maiden rose and guided him without a word to a corridor beyond the great hall to a room as richly furnished as any noble’s quarters.

  “Once again, we meet,” stated the warrior. “I have many questions troubling me. This world is strange, and yet these things, these people, bear resemblance to my own world. I feel as if I have always known this prophecy, and I feel my old world slipping from memory. I was a child there, and through mists of time I have wandered, between worlds where time has stretched and turned. These things follow an order of their own, one not bound by reason or time.” The warrior entered ahead of the maiden to see the room contained a great wooden bed and a large shelf of ancient tomes. He laid down his shield and looked to the maiden who stood at the door. “I have met the others at the table and we have spoken, and yet, I know not your name.” His words were met with silence.

  She cast a short smile as he stared with wonder and closed the door. The light faded, as did the sounds of revelry from the great hall.

  IV

  Again the warrior was in darkness. He dreamed of great armies amassing. Hulking forms were pillaging and ravaging, forging cruel armor and crude weaponry. He saw the nightmarish yellow-clad figure standing tall on a war chariot driven by beasts unknown which snorted and howled under the yoke of oppressive force. The gray ragged mantle lay about the figure’s broad shoulders, and the hood obscured its face. The armies raged through a desolate land. Burning clouds billowed uneasily in the skies above. Thunder cracked through canyons of chaos where gravity seemed wrong. Pyramids of mad design dotted the horizons, in ruinous formations of ragged stone.

  A chasm spit lava down into a valley.

  Smoke and fire: torment and sacrifice.

  Lightning cracked the terrible skies, and blood ran over the land.

  When the warrior awoke, he was alone in the darkness. He stirred and arose, feeling for his sword, which lay beside him in the great wooden bed. Raising the sword of steel, he fumbled in the dark and felt for the door. As he opened it as light spilled in from the corridor.

  V

  As the warrior entered the light, he was greeted not by revelry but by plotting. The guild did not notice him at first, until the old man who had retrieved him from the world above caught glimpse of the weary Earth Warrior.

  The warrior with no name gathered his wits as he poured water from a clay jug into a tumbler. He looked about the room, imagining the strange lands each of the adventurers had traveled from, the misty jungles and tall hills. He imagined the many thousands of years of culture which brought them here to this place. Some of their garb appeared familiar, as if ripped from the history of his own Earth, while others were clearly from lands altogether strange to him. He thought of his home plane of existence, and the great forgotten civilizations, lost to him here. They were paying little attention to him as they talked and pored over manuscripts.

  “We know that within the Tower Keep there was a doorway to another world: the Realm of the old gods known here as Faellnoch within the dark dimension of Oxuul. The wizards of old had split the Talisman of Kings into two parts, the Eye and the Claw. The Warrior found the Eye in Evermorn in the belly of a demon, and the Claw about the neck of one of the old gods of Faellnoch.” Immerus walked to a large table, littered with books and scrolls. The script was not familiar to the man of Earth, but the imagery depicted the things he had seen in striking detail. “Within these texts are the prophecies of our world, and are these things foretold. We have only the prophecy of destruction, beyond this, we know nothing, other than fate will deal a fitting end by his hand.” Immerus looked down at the dusty tomes as his mind wandered. “In the night, we received word that Portals have opened, and there are strange reports of creatures not of this world lurking in the shadowy recesses of the forests.”

  “I have seen them,” the Earth Warrior interrupted. “In dark visions. I have seen armies amassing under cruel banners. There is a figure in a cloak of yellow whose rule is harsh and filled with anger.”

  As he spoke these words, the guildsmen looked up with fear in their eyes, for they knew of these things, if only from study and the words of their forbears.

  “While our respective kingdoms serve the ancient ways of the wise elders, there are those who would bring this King in Yellow to our world, to the certain destruction of all,” said Immerus. “These cultists will have learned of the fall of the Tower Keep, and they will know the prophesized times have come. Our spies have infiltrated their ranks, and have learned of their plan to sacrifice themselves to their gods by opening a portal to Faellnoch and spilling their blood on its soil. Warrior, you must pose as a devotee and enter their cult in order to travel to that forsaken realm. You have traveled there before, for it is where the claw of the Talisman of Kings was hidden. In this realm, you must find the King in Yellow, and destroy his efforts to enter Eyrn. You must sever his line of demons who serve the old gods. All the while, the King in Yellow will undoubtedly send his warriors to Eyrn through their cursed portals. The guildsmen will return to their respective kingdoms and raise armies of their own, to protect against
these attacks, wherever they may lay siege.” Immerus looked to the room, scanning the faces of the warriors of this realm, and turned to the Earth Warrior. “The cultists of Faellnoch have been seen in the mountains to the north of Ardona. Their green fires will be the sign.”

  The Lady in Blue approached the Earth Warrior from the far corner of the hall. The candlelight flickered as she passed. “Since ancient times of this world, my order has held objects of power. We served the old wise wizards of the past, and guarded their secrets down through the ages.” She held out what appeared to be a strange key of a bronze-like metal, etched finely with runic markings. At its end was a fiery crimson gem, which changed appearance as the light moved about it. The key was fastened upon a sturdy chain. “This key will aid you on your quest to Faellnoch, yet, I know not what creation of evil it opens.”

  “I thank thee, lady of the wise wizards, and would that I might see thee again upon my return,” the warrior replied, as he tied the chain upon his studded belt.

  The Earth Warrior gathered supplies for his journey then: dried meat and a skin of water. The guildsmen and the Lady in Blue bid him farewell as he passed the heavy door which led back up the stair to Ardona. His boots fell hard on the stone.

  VI

  At the top of the stair, the warrior saw an iron lever protruding from the wall. As he pulled the lever, the doorway began to glow, and the stones moved free by forces of ancient magick. Dim light poured into the stairwell and he entered Ardona once more. It was now midday, and the townsfolk were bustling in the streets. It was the first day free from the villainy of Vael, and as the warrior exited the alleyway into the main streets of the city, he saw that a small militia of men had taken it upon themselves to cast out the remaining vile folk who once thrived here. They brandished ceremonial swords of their fathers against stone-hurling and club-wielding brigands. The militia pushed them toward the gates, ignoring their wicked threats. These things were of little concern to the Earth Warrior. He strode through Ardona and headed for the main gate house himself.