Asgoleth the Warrior

chapter TEN

Asgoleth tried to spit the dust from his mouth but his throat was too dry. For three long burning days he had trudged through the blasted lands with his hands tied to the tail of a pack horse. His dry skin itched and burned in the pitiless heat of the day and his lips were black and swollen from lack of water. He was given food and water at each day’s end but only enough to keep the life within him and no more, Demos wanted him to suffer.

Black, burning anger filled his soul as he thought of the tyrant. He had had to surrender to save Amira’s life but in the freezing cold of the desert nights gone past when he had heard her cries of torment and Demos’ mocking laughter he had realised that it would have been better had he sent one of his arrows through her heart to end her pain. Demos was truly a monster beyond comprehension. Calthians could be hard and cruel when they had to be but no Calthian would ever take such wicked delight in the prolonged torture of a helpless girl. Somehow he would find a way to put an end to Demos even if it cost him his life. If he could not do that then at least he would put the girl out of her misery. Better a quick death at the hands of a friend than a long slow one at the hands of a creature like Demos. Lost in these gloomy thoughts he trudged on under the burning sun.

His vision was blurred and fatigue threatened to bring him down but he knew that if he fell he would be dragged along behind the horse he was tethered to. On such rough and stony ground he would suffer terrible injury. Injury he could not long survive in his present weakened condition. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and despite a few faltering steps he managed to stay on his feet. So engrossed was he in doing this that he only became aware that the Akonite column had come to a halt when he walked into the back of the horse.

A subdued murmur of unease broke out among the Akonites as they looked upon their destination. Asgoleth blinked the sweat from his eyes and followed their gaze. Ahead of them rose a massive tower of jet black stone, jutting thousands of feet up into the dry desert air. This then was the hiding place of that which Demos sought. This was the fabled mountain of doom.

He had heard the tales of those who had come to this terrible place seeking the treasure that was reputed to lie within the mountain. None had returned and what terrible fate they had met with no one knew, except perhaps the priestesses of mighty Solus. They however, until now at least, had kept their secret well.

Suddenly his guards snapped to attention. Asgoleth heard a horse approach and as a shadow fell upon him he looked up into the grinning face of Demos. For a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes and Demos frowned; before him stood no beaten wretch broken in spirit. He saw in the barbarians eyes no fear or despair, only a cold, implacable hatred. Then he sneered. It did not matter what this barbarian animal felt. As long as he held the princess captive this fool would obey him. What utter fools men could be. His lip curled with contempt as he said,

‘I have a task for you Calthian. Yours will be the honour of retrieving the Heart of Ra from its hiding place. If you fail me in this or if you try to escape you know what will happen. Do you understand?’

Asgoleth said nothing but the rage glittered brightly in his cold grey eyes. Demos snorted with contempt and turned his mount away.

‘Bring him.’ he commanded and Asgoleth was pushed roughly forward. The thongs that bound his wrists were cut and he stifled a groan as the agony of returning circulation hit him. He glared at his captors, calculating his chances of leaping in among them to slay and destroy but the guard commander knew barbarians and snarled,

‘Don’t try it, pig or by Balzar I will send you to face the demons of the mount with your legs full of crossbow bolts.’

Asgoleth saw that the man meant what he said and stood silently making no move. The Akonite grinned.

‘Well done dog, you know who your masters’ are, don’t you? Now march.’

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