Havelock took a step towards the keep, the bowstring going slack as he lowered the weapon. "My lord... should we ask the people within whether they've seen the stag's head? Maybe we can stop for a while, rest and get some food.
Leofric shook his head and reached out to pull Havelock back. He felt resistance and pulled harder, stopping the squire in his tracks. The man twisted in his grip, sudden hostility flashing in his eyes.
"Let me go!" hissed Havelock. "I want some food and wine!"
Leofric's palm snapped out and cracked against Havelock's jaw. The squire staggered and Leofric said, "Use your head, man. There is no food or wine, it is all an illusion to ensnare us."
Havelock spat blood and shook his head in contrition as he saw that Leofric spoke the truth. He puled his bowstring taut once more. "Sorry, my lord."
"Remember," said Leofric. "Sir Darik said the creature would attempt to make us lower our guard by promising us a warm welcome and attempting to confuse our senses with friendly images. We must not let that happen."
"No, my lord," said Havelock.
Satisfied his squire understood the threat before them, Leofric once again advanced on the door. Light streamed from the windows and at the threshold, but it was a dead light now, bereft of warmth or sustenance. He could feel it calling to him, bidding him enter with promises of comfort and an easement of burdens, but knowing it for the lie it was, the illusory light had no power over him.
He reached out to grip the black ring that opened the door, and was not suprised when it turned easily beneath his hand. Cold, glittering light enveloped him as the door swung open with a grinding squeal of rusted hinges and he felt its attraction grow in power as he saw what lay with the keep.
Where he had expected emptiness and desolation, instead there was life and people. The great hall stretched out before him, its tables groaning with wild meats and fruits of all descriptions. Earthenware jugs overflowed with wine and a colourful jester capered madly in the center of the chamber, juggling squawking chickens. Children played 'Break the gauntlet', a game banned in Itatrion after it had incited a peasants revolt, and a laughing nobleman clapped enthusiastically to the badly played lute. Above the nobleman, Leofric saw a stuffed stag's head, its antlers drooping and sad, and shook his head at the idea of risking his and Havelock's life for such a tawdry prize.
Leofric took a step inside, wary at the sight of so many apparitions and forced himself to remember that they were not real. Sir Darik only mentioned one creature, calling it a revenant, a spectral horror that sucked th very life from a person with its deathly touch. He had said nothing about a host of creatures.
The revellers appeared to ignore him, but having attended the court of the grand duke and been on the receiving end of courtly snobbery, Leofric recognised their studied disinterest as false. Whoever or whatever these ghostly people were, they knew he was there.
"Sir Derik didn't say nothing about a party," whispered Havelock.
"No," said Leofric grimly, "he didn't."
Each of the revellers glimmered with a sheen of silken frost and Leofric approached the nearest, a man dressed in the garb of a minor noble, his clothes bright and well cut, though of a fashion even Leofric knew had passed out of favour many hundreds of years ago.
Leofric slowly extended his sword arm towards the apparition, the blade white in the reflected light of the hall. The tip of the sword passed into the outline of the man, and it had penetrated barely a fingerbreadth when the man hissed and leapt away, the guise of humanity falling from his features in a heartbeat.
Instantly, the gaudy banquet vanished and Leofric was plunged into utter darkness. A low moaning soughed on the cold, dry air and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the sound. He heard Havelock cry out in fear and spun around, trying to pinpoint the sound of the moaning voice.
"Havelock!" commanded Leofric. "Where are you?"
"Right here, my lord!" shouted Havelock, though Leofric could see nothing in the blackness.
"Find a wall and get to the door, I don't want to hit you by mistake!"
"Yes, my lord," replied Havelock.
Leofric blinked and rubbed a hand across his eyes as he attempted to penetrate the gloom. He turned quickly on the spot, keeping his sword arm extended before him until his eyes could adjust. He heard a hissing behind him and spun to face it, but another sound came to him from behind and he realised he was surrounded by a host of creatures that were as insubstantial as mist.
He cried out as something cold brushed against the skin of his back, flinching in sudden pain and suprise. His flesh burned as though with frostbite, but he could tell his armor was still whole. Whatever powers these creatures possessed was such that his armor was useless and he cursed Derik for sending them on this fool's errand. He remembered the same deathly chill touch when shadow creatures of the darkness had attacked him after he had journeyed to the lair of the dragon, Ritheb-Seun.
Another cold touch stole into his flesh from the side, but he was ready this time and swept his sword down and the white blade cut through something wispy and soft like wadded cheesecloth. A sparkle of light fell to the floor like a rain of diamond dust and Leofric heard a shriek torn from what sounded like a dozen throats simultaneously.
"So you can be hurt?" taunted Leofric as he heard a chorus of hisses drawing nearer.
"Yes, we can," said a sibilant voice that came from many places, "but your flesh is ours, your spirit is ours..."
He could see the faint outlines of perhaps a dozen figures drifting towards him, their outlines blurred and indistinct, but that was enough. Ever since his time in Maxail, his sight had been keener and he had been sensitive to the proximity of darkness in the air. He narrowed his eyes, letting his awarness of the approaching creatures steal over him like a warm blanket.
"Come on..." he whispered as he saw they all moved in perfect concert, as though they were but fragments of a whole... as though orchestrated by a single will.
He could see that the apparitions were unaware that he could see them in the darkness and continued to turn blindly to maintain the deception.
You're not the only ones who have the power of illusion, he thought.
When the nearest creature was an arm's length from him, Leofric lunged, spearing it with the point of his sword. The multitude cried out in pain as it vanished in a puff of light, but by then Leofric was amongst them, his sword slashing left and right and destroying each creature it cut into. Shrieks and wails of pain filled the hall and Leofric saw the apparitions whip through the air like smoke in a storm.
"Now, Havelock!" shouted Leofric.
Once again the rusted hinges squealed as Havelock threw open the door to the banqueting hall and bright moonlight streamed inside. Further illuminated by the light of the night sky, the apparition was bated in white; its spectral outline limned in glittering light as its ghostly avatars returned to it and became part of the whole once more.
So this was a revenant thought Leofric. Its features were twisted in hatred as its form grew in power, though Leofric knew he must have hurt it with those he had destroyed.
With a shriek of rage, the revenant hurled itself forward, its arms extended and ending in ghostly talons that reached for his heart. Its speed was astonishing, but Leofric had been expecting its attack and twisted out of its reach and swung his sword for its head.
His blade cut the monster and he felt its rage as the blade burned its ethereal body with its keen edge. The revenant spun behind him and its claws raked deep into his side as it passed and Leofric cried out in pain as he felt his strength flow from his body and into his foe.
"Your strength fills me, knight!" laughed the revenant. "I will feast well on you."
Manic laughter followed him as Leofric spun to face his foe once more, launching a deadly riposte to its body. The sword sailing past the creature and it darted in again with a predatory hiss of hunger.
The blade snapped up and Leofric shouted, "Father, guide my arm!" as he leapt towards the revenant and felt the blade pierce its unnatural flesh.
It shrieked in agony as magical blade of the light dealt it a dreadful wound, the powerful enchantments breaking its hold on the mortal realm. Even as it wailed and spat in its dissolution, Leofric spun his sword until it was held, point down, before him. He dropped to one knee and whispered his thanks to the Holy Father.
"He will not save you!" hissed the revenant. "You are already marked for death, Leofric Carrard."
Leofric's eyes snapped open and he saw the fading form of the revenant as it sank slowly to the stone floor of the chamber, its form wavering and fading with each passing second.
"How do you know my name?" demanded Leofric.
The revenant gave a gurgling chuckle and said "The Shadow Lord will rise again and his blade will drink deeply of your blood. The realm of the dead already knows your name."
Leofric rose to his feet and advanced on the creature, but before he could demand further explanation, its form faded completely until only a dimming shower of sparkling light remained.
With the revenant's destruction, the last vestiges of the hall's illusion fell away and Leofric saw it for the faded forgotten place it truly was. Neglect and despair hung over everything and the wan moonlight only served to highlight the melancholic air of decay.
He looked up and saw the stag's head was still there, looking even more pathetic than it had before, its fur fallen out in clumps and one antler broken. Havelock moved to stand beside him and followed his gaze.
"Looks like he's seen better days, my lord."
"Haven't we all?" said Leofric, sheathing his sword and turning from the stag, his thoughts dark and filled with foreboding.
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Topic: Battle of the Gods V (Read 27570 times)