Tales of the Horns: Part 1 The Berserk Beast

  Chapter 10

  Sacrifice

  He fought like a man possessed. He fought like a man that had everything to lose. The ugly creatures were as thick as flies in the ancient house, pressing from both sides without pause. His powerful arms cast them aside like chaff, pounded them like meal. He howled like a wolf and wailed with a berserker’s laughter throughout.

  Inside he relished the fight, delighted at his prowess in battle. He met each foe with a gleeful fury that drove fear into the hordes in waiting. However, he recalled what he was fighting for, and a good measure of dread kept him in check from losing himself altogether. This fight did serve a higher purpose, after all. Remy howled louder still, driving a punishing twin-armed hook into a snaggle-toothed face.

  Behind him fought his grandfather; the spiteful man that had raised him since he was eleven. Stephen sagged more and more with each thrust of his energised blade. The Old Man’s curse was taking its toll on him with each act of aggression against his plans. Shattered weapons and hulking corpses lay at Stephen’s feet, flesh and steel no match for his own blade. Darting in low, he ducked beneath the clumsy swing of an axe and thrust the length of his sword through the belly of a towering beast with chitin-like skin. The creature hissed dreadfully and fell forwards, its innards cooked by the sword’s caged energy.

  Stephen skipped back from the flailing body. For the moment, the mob seeing just how lethal the blade was, had paused beyond the reach of his sword. Stephen panted at his exertions, unwillingly breathing in the foul fumes of burnt blood wreathing off his glowing weapon. Keeping an eye on the enemy waiting beyond his range, Stephen spoke over his shoulder. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, boy.”

  Remy disarmed a bull-faced beast and drove its horned head into the floor.

  “I could go all night and day, old man. You just lie down and have a nap if you need to. I’ve got this.”

  Remy caught a furry creature by the forearms as it attempted a double-handed stroke at his head, the mace stopping inches from his face. He wrestled the weapon backwards, freeing his spare arms to land a savage uppercut and jab to an ape-like face. The beast fell to the floor twitching.

  “I thought you had wards all over the place to protect you from an encounter such as this,” he shouted back to Stephen.

  “No doubt null and void due to my bargain with the devil.”

  Stephen cast a surreptitious glance at the small brass amp meter on the inside of his handle. The needle danced dangerously low. Stephen weighed his options as several large brutes crept forward as one.

  “Guess I’ll have to rely on skill alone,” he muttered.

  Flicking a switch, he washed the halls with one final burst of lightning, felling half a dozen nightmarish beasts. The crushing weight of the curse amplified, robbing him of breath and sapping his strength. Panting, he eyed the next wave of foes cautiously advancing over their fallen comrades. “I do hope they hurry it along,” he wheezed. “I don’t think I have much left to give.”