Maroz 8 - The Warning

The city of Crook was not as large as most, yet people usually crowded through its streets. Today was different for word had spread of the old man who had seen his village swallowed by darkness and what waits in that darkness. The story was almost too much to believe. Death himself has come in the flesh? Demons from Hell literally tearing humans apart! The sky being as dark as night at noonday! It was too much! The only reason anyone gave the stories any credit at all was that they had been hearing rumors of darkness, to the east for weeks now. Still, there were those who did believe and were either busy packing or already traveling west, leaving the city just a little less crowded. Marinek Shamil had it in his mind to find out exactly which of these rumors were true though.

Standing seven inches more than six feet he was a very large and powerful man and most seemed to turn to him for direction just simply for that reason. Marinek was not as bright as most but his size had given him an air of confidence that most men ignorantly took as a sign of intelligence.

“I aim to take as many men who will go with me into this so called shadow!” He shouted from the steps of a large pub, a mug of whine still in his hand. His hair had long since receded so Marinek had gotten into the habit of shaving his head bald. “We will find out what is truth and what is lies. We will find out what this darkness is all about!” A large crowd of near a hundred people stood listening to him and more than a couple cheering him on. “If this Death character is really there, we will show him what real men, healthy men, can do! We will drive him and his so called demons back to where he belongs. We will run him right back into the sea of death!”

The crowd grew and grew as he spoke and for the most part the men shouted agreement. There was one who did not cheer though. Standing near the back of the crowd was the old man who had started the stories. “You’d be a fool to go in there, mister.” Jeck Henley spoke loud enough to be heard and every head turned toward him. “And every one of you who follow him will be fools right to the moment you die!”

“You must be the crazy old goat who came rushing into Crook, scaring our women and children with your stories huh?” A few of the men chuckled at the confidence in Marinek.

Jeck did not flinch at the words. “Old goat I am mister. Old fool I am not! Those were not stories! They were warnings. I saw Death himself and I have never known fear until I looked into his eyes, well, where his eyes should have been. Nothing but empty sockets was there! Thousands of winged demons killed my neighbors and a few chased me to the edge of the shadow. Almost got me too!” Jeck could hear a few snickers around him and though he knew it would do no good, he turned on the crowd. “Go ahead and laugh if you want to, but if you go into that shadow you won’t be laughing then. I warned my friends something was wrong and they wouldn’t listen and now I am giving you one chance as well. Me? I’m leaving here before that shadow has a chance to get here, and if you were smart you would follow me out!”

Marinek stood in silence and watched with a smirk as the old man made his way through the crowd. Once he was gone Marinek raised his voice again. “As I was saying, I plan on taking healthy men, not old men. If something is in there we will do away with it. What creature will fight fifty armed men? Or a hundred armed men! Most of you know me and you know I can fight. Be it with weapon or bare hands I will beat most men.” Pointing to a hard looking man with reddish blond hair hanging below the shoulders with a bulbous nose and wide shoulders, Marinek continued. “Jonah, you are a good man with an axe and the two of us alone would make a powerful duo. Can I count you in with me?”

Jonah only thought for a second before taking in a deep breath and straightening his back. “I be in with you Marinek! We’ll clobber anything we face!”

Most men respected Jonah with his axe and with his statement of going more men began to shout they would go as well. As more men clamored that they would go, others who were doubtful began to join. Soon Marinek stood in front of a group of one hundred and twenty men, all clapping each other on the shoulders and talking loudly how they would defeat Hell itself.

Less than two hours later the large group of self made warriors rode out of Crook holding every kind of weapon imaginable. For the most part they wore swords at their waists but many had long bows and short bows, Halberds and spears, staffs and axes. A few of them had even driven spikes through clubs because they were too poor to own a decent weapon. Out the gates they rode and crossed the barren plains that surrounded Crook for the first three miles before reaching trees. Once exiting the other end of the trees though, every man came to a stop and stared at the darkness to the east. Night was not yet setting on the land but an unnatural shadow crept towards them just fast enough for the naked eye to see it moving. A few of the men began to mutter to them selves that maybe the old man was right but Jonah heard the whispered fears and spoke up trying to give encouragement. Once an army was beaten mentally, the physical battle was already over and he would not allow that to happen. “Aye the old man might have spoke some truth but no doubt he be exaggerating. I no be old and decrepit, least no the last time I looked in a mirror. Marinek may be getting there but no me!” The men began to chuckle at his slight towards Marinek and the fear that thickened the air moments before seemed to thin out and dissipate. “Me thinks I’d like to see what’s really in there. In fact, maybe if I see this Death fellow, I be asking him to drink with me before I cut his wee head off.” Without waiting for any agreement Jonah carelessly put his horse into a walk, knowing all too well his casualness would bring the others behind him. The sounds of the other horses’ hooves clopping against the hard ground told him he was right.

Inside of a three hundred paces the small army went from a shining sun to a moonless night; the only light coming from the daylight behind them. Torches came out and were quickly lit before they ventured any further. Together the men grouped tightly as if afraid of the darkness surrounding them; the torches casting a ghostly reddish tint to everything it reached. Marinek was considering how calm and peaceful it was, after all if demons were killing everything alive, how peaceful could it be, when one of the men whispered and pointed. Fifty paces ahead of them a small; almost man like creature with ribbed wings was engrossed with tearing the flesh off of a squirrel. A younger man who Marinek did not recognize lifted his bow and loosed an arrow at the same time the creature looked up and saw them. The arrow took the small demon hard in the chest and carried it a few feet back before it stopped dead.

“Let’s go see that thing up close.” Marinek said as he gave his horse a nudge forward.

The young man who shot the arrow galloped ahead and climbed down to pick it up. Holding it up by the shaft of the arrow he smiled. “Looks like its got some sharp claws and teeth but other than that it don’t look all so dangerous. I bet they…” His words were cut off as the long tail of the small winged animal fell off and burst into ash before it reached the ground. Before the young man could react, the rest of it slid off of the arrow and fell in a shower of ash as well.

Marinek was only half the distance to the lad when he held up and twisted in his horse looking around. He heard something in the surrounding darkness but what ever it was, it still had not come close enough to touch the penetrating light from their torches. The other men walked their horses right on by him though, either not hearing what Marinek heard or not caring. Suddenly from out of the darkness, nearly thirty of those creatures swarmed over the young bowman and the lad began screaming as he swung his bow and beat his hands at them. The screaming, as horrific sounding as it was, only lasted seconds before they left and his flesh-ridden skeleton collapsed to the ground. Every man in the make shift army stared in shock, their mouths hanging open for a moment before they also began to scream as the winged demons swung towards them. Swords, axes, staffs and clubs were swung in defense, killing the creatures that turned to ash before they ever hit the ground. Within minutes they had lost twelve men and the swarm of creatures still looked as thick as when it first appeared, even thicker as more of the winged beasts came from the darkness.

Marinek had just finished slicing one of the demons in half when he heard another sound. Not the same as the first time but deeper and more guttural sounding. Then from out in the darkness came more demons, only these were not winged and were larger than most men. In all different appearances some had muscular arms and legs while others looked thin and sinewy. Some had badly disfigured faces while others had features that were practically human. More demons emerged from the darkness looking more like the smaller flying ones only these were as large as most women were and much heavier in the muscle. There was not much to their color, usually black, gray or a very dark red, though some had stripes while others were spotted or a solid color. Horse and man alike were being pulled down and shredded by their claws.

One particular demon with a face that looked like it had been pulled out of the fire charged Marinek but when Marinek swung his sword at the beast it picked up one of its smaller counterparts and used it as a shield. The blade stuck half way through the smaller creature and before he could pull it free, the sword was yanked out of his hand so hard it nearly unseated Marinek from the saddle. Grabbing onto the pommel of the saddle, Marinek tried desperately to turn his horse to run when it whinnied in a high pitch and fell, causing Marinek to tumble away from it. Before he could gain his feet, the large man felt an even larger hand wrap around his neck and lift him up. It was the demon with a disfigured face that held him up with one hand.

Marinek tried to scream when the beast raked the claws of its spare hand down his arm tearing the flesh from his bones, but all that came out was a strangled choke. That clawed hand reached up once again to cover his face and Marinek could feel the claws slicing deep into his brow and cheeks.

“Stop!” It was one word and not spoken very loudly but every demon stopped, even the one that held Marinek. As the large hand came away from his face, Marinek felt blood flow freely from the wounds. “I want him alive!”

The large hand released Marinek and he fell hard to the ground. With his one good hand he wiped the blood from his eyes to see who had saved him and immediately wished he had not. A large man on a black horse stood before him wearing a dark cloak that looked like it had been rotting away for some time now. Its hemlines hung in shreds and in some areas there were holes eaten through its material. The cloak moved around on its own accord as if it was a windy day though the leaves in the trees stood completely still. The man’s skin was a pasty white and gave one a sense that he was dead and the empty eye sockets made Marinek believe that maybe the horseman really was. Fear like Marinek had never felt before, swept over him causing him to lose control of his bladder and even forget the pain that throbbed heavily in his shredded arm.

“Who..” His throat was parched from the fear as well and he had to start a second time to get his words out. “Who, are you?”

“I am Zeebulis! I am the Lord of Death! I am Death!” Reaching down, Zeebulis wrapped his long bony fingers around the injured arm of Marinek and squeezed. Marinek’s screams intensified as the heat and pain flowed through his arm and he watched in horror as his arm literally melted off, leaving a withered stump hanging from his shoulder. “You will not bleed to death now and you will live.”

Marinek’s screams died away as the words slowly took on form and he realized he would not be killed. “Why, why me? Why do you let me live? You want me to serve you is that it? I won’t! I would rather die than serve you!” Zeebulis grabbed Marinek again by the neck and lifted him up in the manner the demon had before. His feet dangling a foot off of the ground, Marinek could do nothing but struggle to breathe.

“In some matters you have no choice. If I wanted you to serve me you would serve me! If I killed you now, you would serve me from the grave you worthless worm. I am letting you live, not to serve me, but to go back to your pathetic race. Tell them I come and they cannot run nor hide or fight me. They have but one choice alone. They can die! Your useless weapons of steel cannot hurt me. My minions that you have killed, they only need be brought back from the pits of Hell. You cannot kill the dead!” Dropping Marinek to the ground he waited for the man to catch his breath before continuing. “Go now before I change my mind. Go now and warn them if you wish, but go now before I decide I would rather melt the rest of your limbs off just to watch you squirm around.”

Marinek scrambled to his feet and began running. Small winged demons flying past him raked their claws across his shoulders, back and face, laughing at his clumsiness as he fell over and scrambled back to his feet. Out of the dark shadow and all of the way to the city he ran before collapsing at the gates where guards who recognized him carried him into the city for medical help.

The large demon with the scar-covered face held its fists clenched tightly as it spoke. “Why Master? Why let him live? It would have been more entertaining to kill him slowly.”

“Because, his survival serves me Lozimum! If none of them return they will only send a larger army next time and that serves nothing but to entertain you. With my warnings and man’s talent for exaggerating, maybe they will try sending elementals to fight me. Now that would serve a real purpose.” Zeebulis stared off in the direction that the human had run, his charcoal gray cloak waving behind him as a warning to others that he was not in the best of moods. He never was! “This body grows weak Lozimum. I need more elementals.”

Continue to .... Maroz 9 - Florencia