Heroes

Heroes

  Copyright 2016 Andrew Mowere

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  Also by this author:

  Full Novel: The Final Life

  Free Story Collection: Tales Of Grimea

  Fantasy Short Stories:

  Hymn of Faith

  When a man Bleeds

  Special

  Heroes

  Usually, people steer away from anything that heralds a deep sense of foreboding. It was a helpful instinct for surviving dangerous situations, Arkheld thought as he stepped softly on dark cobbled stone. At least, Arkheld stepped as softly as one could in full plate armour, which was to say he clanked. He could barely see where he put his feet despite the unnatural green lighting, for mist rose thick if not high enough to cover his party sneaking about this night. Behind him, the knight sensed more than saw an elf’s grimace, and he turned to Seida with an apologetic smile. The ranger tipped back his green hat and fully exposed Arkheld to his scowl. The man scratched at his clean shaved jaw, but before he could say anything his counterpart pushed forward in order to scout ahead, lithe steps silent.

  Yes, he should steer clear of Seida.

  “Aah, I’ll never understand him,” Arkheld whispered through his helmet, and a voice next to him said, “He has more animal in him than elf, that one. Don’t take it personally.” The knight turned to face another member of their group, a drow by the name of Jarlex. Jarlex’s kin differed from forest elves in many ways, not least of which was skin and hair tone. This drow in particular was proficient in necromancy, and it was for this precise reason that he was chosen to come along with them on this quest. He pointed towards a path to their right after concentrating for a bit, in his own words “sniffing out” the thread of dark magic that would lead them to their quarry. With a sigh Arkheld lead the way, trusting the dark skinned elf’s senses. Despite his sinister profession, Jarlex grinned often. All liked him and were glad for his company as well as his prowess. He wondered where the last of their group was, but Mekt was nowhere to be found. Arkheld did not bother looking for him though, for he had worked with that particular dwarf many times in the past, and knew he would be there when he was needed. He wished the dwarf wouldn’t move too far away, though, for he had promised poor Helga he’d bring her husband back safe and sound.

  This four man group was hastily assembled, and had not been at all well versed in working with one another. Higher ups in Cielta’s military had somehow decided that merit alone was good enough to create a special strike force, and thus the cream of the crop was gathered, regardless of whether they knew each other or were able to work as team. A hasty decision to say the least, thought Arkheld as he passed into the back of the castle proper, paying no head to the eerie pulsating green light all around making the dark stone of this place seem blacker than usual. A hasty decision, but one that had not been proven wrong, the knight reminded himself. Despite their different dispositions, each of the four on his team was a professional and knew exactly how to carry his own weight as well as compliment whatever skills the others had. Through the battles the group has waged in its three month march, Arkheld was assured that they were the finest party of heroes ever chosen for this mission.

  Which brought little comfort, considering that each group before them had said the same before being wiped out in this gloomy mist covered castle. No one had ever survived, and to this day the Council of Elders still was not sure of anything regarding the mysterious figure lurking in this dark place. All they knew was that all demons were born here, and all claimed fealty to the ruler of this castle. The knight, sobered by this thought, tried to step even lighter and prayed to his god for magical aid. He called forth spells of protection and glyphs glowed bright blue against the golden hilt of his blade, Holy Crusader. More spells, powered through faith and set to call forth whirling blades of light upon his enemies, hung ready upon the knight’s tongue. Behind him he heard Jarlex tut in amusement, but even the drow was unable to hide a nervous edge from creeping into his mirth. Stealth was paramount here for a reason.

  Before them, around a corner, Arkheld heard a grunt, followed by a thwup and a muffled gasp. Out from the corner appeared Seida’s beautiful face with its feral gaze, his golden straight locks streaming down his shoulder as he peeked out. He smiled and the knight was almost surprised to see no fangs in his mouth. “A group of six up ahead, gargoyles and one lich,” he whispered and the two stiffened. Unheeding, the ranger continued, one finger reaching behind his back to relax upon his bow’s tip. “Circular room with three entrances. I shall silence the lich. When you hear it die, strike.”

  Without another word, Seida withdrew back around the corner and the two followed him, but peering into the mist revealed no hint of the elf. Before them, perhaps a hundred meters ahead, the corridor of black stone opened into a hall of sorts. On each side, Arkheld knew there to be an opening. This matter had to be handled instantly to avoid the sounding of an alarm. Six there were, statue like demons with hard grey skin and cruel black eyes. The lich, a hooded skeleton in flowing golden trimmed cloth, could be made out by the glowing pin-points of flame where its eyes should be. Arkheld held out his fore- and middle fingers as he walked, then pointed left. Jarlex smiled then nodded, mimicking the gesture but pointing right. With that the two walked until they were right before the room’s opening, the sound of their shuffling masked by white mist. They waited no more than a few seconds before the silence was unmistakably shattered by an arrow cracking open a skull. Arkheld exploded into action, releasing a single whirling blade of light with a word. He did not pause to see if his aim was true. Instead, the knight took a large step forward and launched his blade forward as if it were a spear. Holy crusader flew in a straight line, taking another of the grey demons in the heart and pinning it to black stone across the room. Just then, Arkheld noticed that one of the gargoyles still stood and with a curse under his breath he readied another spell, calling upon the blessings of Ergen for power. Looking closely, however, the knight relaxed and walked into the room more casually, towards the loving song of his blade. Holy Crusader was partially sentient, and the two shared a link which improved Arkheld’s swordsmanship drastically. To his right, the gargoyle he had mistaken for living stood still, an arrow connecting it to the hand of a quiet ranger standing almost like a shadow behind it. Another arrow protruded from the Lich’s skull as if in salute, and the two remaining gargoyles were propped up by spears of bone rising up diagonally from beneath the rock. Jarlex gestured and the crisscrossed latticework of bone disappeared, dropping the two corpses onto their faces. The whole thing had lasted mere seconds, thought Arkheld to himself quietly. He rejoined his two companions in the centre of the room in order to survey their surroundings.

  The room was hexagonal in shape, made out of cobbled stone like the rest of the twin spired castle. However, whereas murky green illumination had presided over everything so far, this place had clean looking torches placed generously all over, creating a warm glow. The room was high, two stories tall, and two staircases curved along the walls towards a large, drab looking double Iron door on the second story. The door was large enough to welcome a giant with open arms, and was etched with a five pointed star. Arkheld’s mind sent a primitive stab of fear at him, and he wanted nothing to do with what lay behind that door. Just then, the large knight started. He looked about him with a higher sense of urgency; for some reason Holy Crusader’s joyful song rang truer in this room than in any other so far, and there was no mist here either. The dampening effect on magical communication was not present here! Beside him Jarlex drew in his breath. The drow also put his hands to his temple, long nails scratching at his shaved forhead. “It’s Mekt...” he murmured, and Arkhel
d’s heart clenched for an instant. He let the everpresent Song of Wisdom, his link to his sword and his god, bring him peace as he awaited news from the necromancer. “He’s done it!” Jarlex continued excitedly, his voice slightly louder than was necessary, and from across the room Seida growled. More carefully, the drow added, “he destroyed their barrier breakers... the seal around this foul land shall remain safe for another ten years!”

  Arkheld felt weak at the knees, then upset with Jarlex and Mekt for frightening him, then excited, all in the span of a few seconds. He cursed his overly kind heart, then the troublesome duo.

  The barrier around the kingdom of demons was impregnable usually, and the only weakness in it appeared once every ten years. Thus the first part of their mission: destroy any attempts the residents of this land may launch to destroy the