Asgoleth The Warrior: A Modern Tale of Sword And Sorcery (fantasy fiction books) (11 page)

The commander pointed to the head of the column and Asgoleth started walking with his guards all around him.

Demos awaited him and so too did Amira. Asgoleth raged inwardly as he saw the lines of fatigue and horror etched in her lovely face. Her eyes were hopeless pools of despair and they held no hint of recognition as he drew near. She had the look of one spell caught and Asgoleth growled,

‘What have you done to her, you animal?’

Demos grinned his cold, infuriating grin and said,

‘I have merely put a simple spell on her to stop her from trying to kill herself. She does not seem to be enjoying the little games we play together at night.’

With a roar of fury Asgoleth launched himself at the tyrant determined to bring him down and kill him there and then. Such was his speed that his guards were taken completely by surprise even though they had been half expecting him to do this. But fast as he was his speed availed him naught for Demos too had been expecting such a move and he was cloaked in the protective aura of the gem on his finger.

Asgoleth’s leap was checked in mid-air and he was hurled violently away to land heavily upon the hard, stony ground. He lay there dazed and breathless and Demos snarled at him,

‘I grow weary of your puny insolence, barbarian. You will carry out my orders or both you and the princess will die now.’

Asgoleth rolled over and climbed to his feet and stood there swaying slightly as he fought off waves of dizziness and nausea then Demos said,

‘Give him his sword and dagger; he will need them to fight the guardian of the Heart of Ra.’

A surge of pleasure went through Asgoleth as the weapons were thrown at his feet. Covered by half a dozen crossbows, he stooped and swiftly buckled the belt about his lean waist and drew his sword from its sheath. The razor sharp edge gleamed brightly in the sun and he grinned at the Akonites who surrounded him. They were ready to open fire in an instant having seen how fast and dangerous this man was but Demos ignored their fear. He knew the barbarian was just playing with them and did not intend to attack. He knew that Amira would die if he did.

He signalled another of his warriors and the man threw a bundle of prepared torches to Asgoleth then he tossed another one already alight which the Calthian snatched out of the air with unerring ease. Demos grinned,

‘Go and carry out your master’s orders, barbarian.’

Asgoleth hefted his sword and with a final look at Amira he turned his face towards the brooding bulk of the Mountain of Doom. He put Demos and the Akonites out of his mind; he would find a way to deal with them later. For now he would need all of his concentration for the task that lay ahead.

An almost palpable aura of menace seeped out of that massive pile of black stone and for a moment he hesitated and considered going back. Better to die under a hail of crossbow bolts than at the hands or claws of whatever foul fiend awaited him within the mountain. Then he growled deep in his throat and chastised himself for such thoughts. He was a warrior and he would face the guardian of the gem as a warrior should, with sword in hand and courage in his heart. Grimly he began to walk towards the gaping mouth of a tunnel which had been carved into the side of the mountain.

Ashe drew near he saw that others had been here before him. A little to one side of the entrance lay a heavy stone slab which had served as a seal against the outside world. Some other seeker of the treasure had pried it loose and then went in to die, leaving the slab where it had fallen. A shudder touched his spine, no doubt he would find their bones lying somewhere within. Torch in one hand, sword in the other, he entered the tunnel ready to deal death at a moment’s notice.

Within only a few steps the black rock seemed to soak up all the light from the sun that filtered in from behind and he was left with only the flickering radiance of the torch to light his way.

He moved silently, his eyes searching every leaping shadow for danger. As he moved deeper into the gloom he became aware of a chill dampness in the air and a heavy, musty odour as of corpses long dead. Suddenly he saw a flicker of white ahead and he crouched into a fighting stance, sword ready to deal death. For a long tense moment he stood thus but nothing moved and finally he went warily forward. Then he saw that the white object was a shattered human skull. Looking around in the wavering light he saw other bones strewn about the floor.

He examined them carefully thinking perhaps that some scavenger had discovered the corpse and had scattered the bones as it feasted. This thought was soon proved false. He could see no signs that the bones had been gnawed upon and broken open for the marrow as a wild beast would have done. He knew then that this man had met a fiend here in the darkness, a fiend which had torn him apart and had scattered the bloody remains all over the floor of the passage.

Asgoleth was no stranger to bloody and violent death but he shuddered at the savagery that had been inflicted upon this fellow. He could imagine the man’s terror as the foul night weird that guarded the jewel had fallen upon him here in this lightless place. In his mind’s eye he envisioned the short, savage struggle as the man, knowing he was doomed, fought with whatever had come out of the darkness to claim his life in such a hideous manner. He heard the shrieks of the victim as he was ripped apart, saw the blood spurt blackly, heard the dull, wet, thuds as the torn body fell and imagined the terrible satisfaction of the inhuman guardian as it returned to its lair to await its next victim.

He stood there among the grisly remains and felt dread trickle down his spine. He feared no mortal enemy but this was black devilry. Then he cursed as the torch he held began to gutter low. He fumbled in his haste to free another torch from the bundle on his back and relight it from the one that was dying. He did not want to be left in darkness to face whatever lay ahead.

As the new torch burned brightly he shook his head, angry at himself. He had almost allowed himself to give in to fear and fear was the worst enemy a warrior could have. If a man lost his faith in his own ability then he was already defeated even before he met his foe.

Lifting his sword he felt the weight and power that lay dormant within the mighty blade and he grinned wolfishly. This demon, though a creature of ancient magic, was yet composed of earthly elements and as such it could be killed. It would find that Asgoleth of Calthia was no terrified wretch, too frightened to fight well. The thing might defeat him but, by Ragnar, it would pay a heavy price for its victory. Grimly, sword ready, he advanced into the menacing gloom

Demos watched Asgoleth vanish into the blackness of the passage and smiled coldly as General Valshin, the commander of his personal guard said,

‘Do you think he will succeed, my lord? Can we trust him?’

‘Oh we can trust him to try, Valshin. He desires the freedom of his princess and he believes that this is the way to obtain it. It matters little though whether he succeeds or not. I have plenty of men and one of them will succeed if he fails.’

Valshin looked at Demos in fear. He himself was a hard and cruel man but his cruelty was as nothing compared to the wickedness he felt emanating from his master. He knew that Demos would think nothing of sacrificing thousands of lives to attain his ends. He fell silent and they both watched the entranceway in silence.

After a time, Demos grew bored and turned back towards his tent.

‘Inform me at once should the barbarian reappear, Valshin. If he has not done so by noon then you must select another to go in.’

Valshin bowed and replied,

‘It shall be done, my lord.’

Demos nodded and turned away and as he did so his eye fell upon the princess Amira and he grinned. He had some time to kill and she would provide some delightful entertainment while he waited for the Calthian to return.   Soon now her usefulness would be at an end and he would have to destroy her. He knew that back in Torr there were still some who believed that they could rise up again to destroy him and replace their royal family upon the throne. They would find that a little difficult to do when he had Amira, the last of the line of Aractus, publicly executed as a sacrifice to Balzar. But that was the future; the present was what interested him now.

He laughed as he caught her eye. She knew what he intended to do and a moan of horror escaped her lips but that was her only sign of defiance against him. Helplessly she followed him inside the tent and General Valshin shuddered and moved away as the sobbing screams began once more

As he went deeper and deeper into the tunnel Asgoleth noticed that the shaft he followed had begun to slope gently downwards. The darkness enveloped him now and sucked at the light of the torch as if seeking to put it out. There was no room in this place for things of the outer world of light and life and he felt that he was walking into a grim and hopeless underworld where the spirits of the dead roamed in despair and misery. He snarled at these thoughts, banishing them from his mind as being unworthy of a warrior and taking a firmer grip upon the hilt of his great sword, he walked on with firm tread. If he met up with any of them he would give them something to moan about.

Ahead of him he caught sight of a faint metallic glitter and as he drew nearer he saw that the passageway was blocked by a heavy bronze door set firmly into the rock. About the base of the door he saw more human bones. Carefully he edged forward and examined them. They were crushed and splintered as if a great weight had fallen upon them and with a curse he stepped back and glared up at the roof to see what manner of death awaited the unwary there.

Dimly he could see a deep square shaft that vanished up into the darkness above. Leaning carefully he thrust his torch into the shaft and saw a massive block of stone suspended within, waiting to fall upon any who walked beneath. He cursed again, if his keen eyes had not spotted the dimly glimmering and splintered bones; he too would have been crushed beneath that huge block of masonry. It seemed there were more than demons to fear in this terrible place.

He glared back at the floor, somewhere there must be a triggering device. If he could find it he might be able to disarm the trap. Finally he made out the outline of a slab of rock that exactly matched the width of the shaft above. The whole floor then was a trigger and it extended for a distance of at least fifteen paces and ended in a narrow ledge of stone at the base of the bronze door. If he wished to continue his quest he would have to find a way across to the door without touching the floor.

The only way he could do so was to try and leap across the intervening space and try to wedge himself into the door frame. It looked as if it would be wide enough to protect him from the falling stone if his foot should touch the floor. Once there he would find a way to open the door. Cursing Demos, he walked back along the passage then turned and began to run.

He reached the edge of the trap and the muscles of his powerful legs launched him into the air. The force of the drop carried him across the gap but the space between the edge of the trigger and the door itself was too narrow for him to land on properly. His foot slipped off the sill and he felt the floor move slightly beneath him. He knew he had triggered the trap when he heard a rasping grumble from above. Desperately he jammed his fingers into the stone on either side of the doorway, dropping both his sword and his torch as he did so. His fingernails scrabbled against the rough stone and he felt them break and splinter as he sought for a grip to pull himself forward. Then he caught hold of a slight projection and using all his strength he flattened himself against the cold bronze of the door.

He was just in time, another second and he would have been crushed by that awful mass of killing rock and his bones would have lain in this gloomy place forever. As the rock crashed down he felt the bundle of torches upon his back being ripped away along with a goodly portion of his skin.

Trapped between the rock and the door he cursed as his eyes filled with dust and his ears with the booming reverberations of the falling rock. If the demon that guarded this place had been unaware of his presence before, then it certainly would know he was there now. He tensed as he felt movement behind him then grinned as he realised that the rock was returning to its original position to await its next victim. Slowly it rose back up into the gloomy shadows above until it locked in place. Carefully, taking great care not to slip off the door sill, he began to run his fingers over the bronze door in front of him searching for a way through it.

Years of dampness had taken their toll upon the door frame and the ancient wood had rotted and crumbled until the door was left standing without any real support. Asgoleth grinned and began to push against it. His muscles bulged with the effort of pushing against the door in the cramped area of safety but at last he gave a loud grunt of satisfaction as the heavy door, with a squeal of protest, moved slightly backwards. Again he pushed, exerting all his strength and the door twisted and toppled backwards with a mighty crash.

At once he was bathed in a dazzling glow of red light from the chamber beyond. Aware that he must be providing a good target for anyone or anything within he leapt high into the air and threw himself forward into the chamber. His sword lay behind him in the passageway but he still had his broad double edged dagger which he drew in a swift fluid movement. He rolled and jumped quickly to his feet, ready for battle but nothing happened.

He saw that he red glow was emanating from a huge crystal which lay upon a stone dais at the far end of the chamber. It looked like a ruby but no ruby he had ever seen, and he had seen many, had ever glowed with such an unearthly light as did this gem. This then was the fabled Heart of Ra, the stone for which so many had died.

Warily he advanced towards the gem, aware of the bones of men that littered the floor. In the dust he could see the footprints of those men and mingled with them the prints of something else, something huge and misshapen, something inhuman.