| Subject: Okay thanks. Let's see if it works. I'm glad you like my story so far.....Here's the next part, especially for Jade. |
Author:
Sekin Brightfall
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Date Posted: 03:22:58 10/21/03 Tue
In reply to:
Jade da hoping it works this time.
's message, "Sorry, did that wrong. End italics: <*/i> without the *." on 18:47:01 10/20/03 Mon
“You carry a weapon slave, even when it is forbidden to do so.” The voice was a potent whisper that sent a torrent of fear through Grisen despite all his rage. It was more of a twisted snarl, disguised in the form of a human voice. It grated on the air horribly, twisting it and sending another shiver of fear through Grisen.
The two figures advanced quickly, picking up speed as they neared him and a second whisper cut through the air, even more of a guttural snarl then the first. “Drop the sword slave!” Grisen lunged then.
Like a shadow flitting across the edge of vision, he sprang forwards, boots crunching on the bones of the dead beneath him and swung at a heavily cloaked shape closest to him. With a ring of steel, Grisen came to a halt, staring at the strange axe that had suddenly appeared in his opponent’s fist, and that was locked against his sword. His eyes could see the pale, milky white skin of the Radgem’s hand that was curled around the haft of the axe. He could see the long brittle fingers that ended in sharp inch long claws that somehow seemed to avoid hindering the wielding of a weapon. Looking up into the shadow of the hood, he saw gleaming yellow eyes boring into his face, could see the glitter of savage teeth as the Radgem’s lip curled back in a snarl. And then with a mighty wrench, the Radgem brought his axe up and sent Grisen stumbling backwards, before the second one lunged in.
All Grisen had time to do was parry the second one’s blow as the Radgem thrust viciously at his waist with a wickedly hooked spear. The second Radgem came to sudden halt, collecting itself and then with a hideous snarl, both of them sprang for him at once. Grisen had only managed to regain his balance before they rushed him, but it was two against one, and even though he wasn’t a novice when it came to sword-play, these were Radgem, the masters of blades.
The axe was cleaved viciously at his legs and the spear whistled through the air as it jabbed at chest. Grisen fell backwards only just in time, feeling the axe break through the tunic above his knee and part his flesh with a hideous ease. With the sword held desperately in front of him, Grisen tried not to stumble on the wet snow as the Radgem approached again with a grace and speed that looked too fearsome to be real.
Like a serpent lunging for its long awaited prey, the first Radgem darted forwards one again, and Grisen sprang to meet it this time, sword raised and boots crunching on the snow. This time he was ready, he wouldn’t be caught helpless again… Not again.
"You have disobeyed the orders slave,” The voice of memeory crept into his head like the dagger of an assassin into the back of the unsuspecting victim, as he lunged forwards. It was the snarling voice of the Radgem. It was unmistakable, the way it contorted and twisted the words into a guttural snarl that ripped from the deep throat, emanating from the fanged mouth in that bloodless face. Time seemed to slow as he charged forwards and he heard his own voice, filled with a submissive panic that made him sick, begin to plead.
Please! I’ll try harder, I swear it. Please! Please! It faded off into a tortured sob, and he winced at the remembered pain that lashed around his shoulder like the tongues of a whip. Laughter. He could hear it, ringing in the caverns of his mind, just as twisted as the words but filled with a horrible pleasure and intense glee.
You won’t try harder until you realize the threat that hangs over your loved ones’ heads! He heard himself scream in horror and alarm, the pain intensified and his mind was swamped by a tide of crimson that flooded his senses. Time speeded up again.
With a ring of steel on steel, the two blades met, and bracing against the strain, his eyes alight with a sudden fierce passion, Grisen kicked out at the Radgem’s chest with his steel shod boot. Caught by surprise, the Radgem was sent hurtling backwards onto the snow. Grisen leapt after it, like a wolf springing for the throat of the weakened deer, jaws ready to bite and sever the threads of its prey’s life.
The Radgem saw him coming. As he drove his sword down point first, it writhed unnaturally out of the way, arching its back in an inhuman way, and kicking out with those long spidery legs to propel itself off to one side. His blade sunk deep into the old bones and the crunching snow, nothing else. The second Radgem was on him then.
With its hood thrown back by the speed of its charge, Grisen stared wide-eyed at it before trying to scramble out of its way. Its face was the lambent white as its hands, a white so pale it was like a corpse. It was so thin, so translucent that he could see the dull red flows of its blood as it coursed under its skin, the blood that seemed to have no effect on the color of its flesh. Those deep, sunken yellow eyes glittered in that horrible face, just as shiny as the jagged teeth in that all-too human mouth that was bared in a wordless snarl. A rippling black mane of hair contrasted starkly against the white of its face, growing down to its shoulders, and matted with knots and damp with blood.
Grisen awkwardly hop-skipped to the side, leaving his sword embedded in the ground, feeling the thrum of the spear as it whirred by him, ripping off a chunk of flesh from his side. He wrenched his sword free, his face contorted with the fiery pain and taking the second Radgem by surprise by his speed, lunged the sword up over the spear haft, and into his opponent’s colorless face.
Blood fountained up from the blade, like a crimson flower bursting into bloom. Grisen continued to drive the blade deeper into the pale forehead, his momentum allowing him to break through the skull with ease. The Radgem howled, its mouth twisting as blood dribbled down its chin, and then with a horrible grating, Grisen withdrew his blade from the dying Night Demon, and turned to face its companion, noting with a grim satisfaction how the body thudded to the ground.
The first Radgem had regained its feet and was circling him warily, hood still drawn up to mask its frightening features. Grisen panted harshly, but allowed himself a small triumphant smile. He had killed a Radgem. He had killed a Radgem!
The first one, its axe raised warily, spoke in that twisted growl. “You have killed one of the Darkborn! You will suffer greatly for this slave! It will be months before you die, reduced to a horrible sniveling wretch, mind broken open like a rotted melon for Him to see!”
Grisen laughed softly. He didn’t know why, probably because the threats that had so much impact on him before didn’t seem to matter. He laughed at the Radgem, laughed at the blood that seeped from his tunic, down his side and leg, laughed at the dark night and the wretched town. He was past caring. It felt so good to be free of the worries that had ailed him, gnawing at his mind. Tonight was the night of retribution and he didn’t care what happened after, only as long as his guilt was cleared, as long as he killed as many Darkborns as he could. As many as he could…
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