CRIMSON GRACE - The New Threat (Part D)

CRIMSON GRACE - The New Threat (Part D)

Laferdon Illarum and Derek Firemist were two soldiers from Lord Tarleton’s Royalforce. On the night of one of their occasional patrols along the eastern outskirts of Burondy, they rode their armored warhorses out towards the desolate area of the Hiltonus farm. Derek Firemist was the older of the two knights, with a thick graying beard, and an equally graying set of eyebrows. He had been serving faithfully in Lord Tarleton’s royal army for nearly forty years, having survived many battles due to his martial skills with many weapons of war. He had been offered higher ranks of command numerous times during his lengthy service, but had turned them all down humbly – preferring to serve without added responsibilities. Many knights have thought his humbleness a little strange, and had even chided him amongst themselves, but none dared to confront him openly. At this stage in his life, he cared very little of what others think, preferring to dream of his retirement next year.

Sir Laferdon Illarum, on the other hand, was a young soldier who had recently been knighted by the king for his many brave civil deeds, the most notable of which was rescuing a whole family by himself from a deadly fire. He was a brash young knight with a curly mane of brownish-black hair and deep-setting blue eyes who, more often than not, would anxiously jump into a dangerous situation without thinking first. And, unlike his older partner, lived for the glory of rewards and high honors – preferring to bask in the spotlight of valorous recognition.

Together, the asymmetrical pair rode side by side towards the Hiltonus farm, carrying two huge pennant spears of House Tarleton (a yellow dragon clutching the yellow sun in its claws over a red background). Soon enough, they saw the broken and splintered front doors on the porch. Looking up to the roof, they saw torn rags with blood splattered everywhere.

“What in the Nine Hells happened here?” asked Laferdon, as he trotted towards the house without waiting for Sir Derek.

“Be careful, lad!” Derek called after him. “Use caution over valor here!” But, Laferdon had already reached the porch even as Derek started after him.

“Great gods of heaven!” Laferdon cried suddenly as he dismounted, and stoop down to observe the torn, severed head. “It’s fair lady Hiltonus!”

Sir Derek finally caught up, and dismounted also. “Who or what could’ve done this to her?” he asked in disgust.

“I know not, but I aim to find out now,” said Laferdon as he rested his pennant spear on the ground, and unsheathed his huge bastard sword. An ordinary man would have a hard time handling such a huge weapon with two hands, but Sir Laferdon Illarum was no ordinary man. Straightening up to his full height of six foot ten inches, he wielded the blade in one hand as if it was nothing, and stomped headlong into the dark house, once again not waiting for Sir Derek Firemist.

Shaking his head at Laferdon in wonderment, Sir Derek grabbed his own weapon – a heavy bardiche of five feet’s length – and followed the young hardheaded knight inside. “Goodness! The stench of this place!” he yelled while covering his nose.

True enough, the place was a complete mess, resembling something out of a nightmare. All the furniture was tossed everywhere. The curtains were ripped. Utensils were scattered all over, and bloodstains splattered all along the wall at the stairwell area. Suddenly, a series of loud footsteps came rushing down the stairs with an equally loud growling sound. That was immediately followed by another loud growl from the front door. Before either knight had time to react, three huge lycans pounced on them, knocking them both to the ground, and separating them in the process.

Outside, both of their warhorses suddenly screamed, and a set of hooves could be heard galloping away into the night. But, that was followed quickly by another loud horse scream, which carried a screech of death that suddenly fell silent. Momentarily, an extremely loud growl, much like the ones from the beasts in the house, could also be heard coming from the yard. Even as their own predicaments began to sink in, both knights could only imagine what had happened to their horses outside.

Laferdon Illarum had been stubborn and willful enough to grip his sword tight as he was bowled to the ground. How fortunate he must have felt then when the lycan started swiping at his face, for even in the tightness of the melee space, he was able to bring his blade up to lessen the intensity of the lycan’s blows. Making the beast cautious of the sharp edge of his sword was a minor relief for Laferdon, but it was all the relief that he needed to find a soft spot on the lycan’s belly, and planted his left knee there. With a mighty heft of his leg, he sent the shocked weretiger flying off of him to land hard against the opposite wall. Instantly, Laferdon – temper rising – got back on his feet and charged straight at his stunned foe, both hands clutching tight the hilt of his monstrous sword. He meant to deal a single deathblow to the abomination right before him.

The weretiger, still recovering from its hard landing, and unable to get up in time, had to resort to its only option of putting up its forearm to deflect the blow that was coming. Howling with a mad rage that set even the lycans on edge, Laferdon Illarum swung his great bastard sword down onto the lycan’s forearm. He put all his might behind that blow, thinking to sever the beast’s arm and to decapitate it in the same motion. When the hit landed, however, it just bounced off the weretiger’s arm, as if he had swung at a thick mattress.

“Impossible!” the young knight exclaimed, as he poised for a thrust to the beast’s neck. Down came the point of the blade, right through the lycan’s throat. However, even under the bright moonlight, he didn’t see any blood or fluid from the wound. The weretiger gave a growl of triumph, and bared its fangs as Laferdon stood staring, dumbfounded.

That moment of hesitation cost him dearly, for the weretiger seized his sword by the blade, and pulled it free as the fluidless wound closed itself. It stood up straight, still gripping the blade in its paws. It was nearly as tall as Laferdon, but appeared much more muscular. Faster than Laferdon could react this time, it gripped Laferdon’s neck with its left paw, and lifted him clearly off the ground. Its other paw easily wrested Laferdon’s sword away. As the young knight struggled to pull himself free of the lycan’s iron grip, the lycan turned the blade around and stabbed it right through Laferdon’s full plated armor, piercing through his abdomen to the other side. Then, lowering the knight to the ground, he retracted the blade and licked the blood from it.

As Laferdon laid twitching on the floor, struggling between life and death, the lycan suddenly bent down and sank its fangs into the young knight's exposed neck. It held its jaws there for a moment, then when the body stopped twitching, it released its hold, and backed away. Satisfied with its work, it sprinted to the other side of the house, to the front door area to join its fellows against the older knight.

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Years of intense physical training, and actual combat were the only factors that saved Sir Derek Firemist from sudden death because the lycans that knocked him over were far quicker than him, especially at this stage in his life. The old knight relied on his instinct as he was falling from the lycans’ charge and rolled his body sideways so that he landed on his left arm to cushion the fall. He, too, held tight to his bardiche with his right hand. Then, sensing that the lycans would try to clamp their jaws around his neck, he stabbed the pointed tip of his bardiche up the chin of the one that was actually doing the biting – all before he ever hit the ground. Then, as soon as he hit the ground, he didn’t let a second pass before he pushed up with his left arm to straighten his body as much as possible so that he wouldn’t lose any positioning advantages. At the same time, he discovered – much to his horror – that, although his bardiche had dug deep into the soft chin of the lycan, it didn’t slow it down one bit. Nor were there any blood or liquid from the wound as he pulled the pointed axe-tip back out.

Suddenly, a third lycan joined the melee, and Derek Firemist felt a very real sense of hopelessness indeed. He was sorely pressed as they began to circle him. Dammit! Where’s backup when you really need them? he thought. Then, as if toying around with him, they allowed him to get back onto his feet. Every so often, one would jump forward and try to startle him, only to retreat back to the other circling two. The charade continued on for many moments that seemed like an eternity, until Derek yelled, “You really want me? Come on!” Then, he swung his bardiche in the air to emphasize his point.

Finally, Derek Firemist took a swing at the closest weretiger – or tried to, but stopped when he heard the approach of another set of feet from the kitchen. They all did, and when they turned their heads, they saw the newest member of the lycan group. Staring in disbelief, Derek saw his young companion standing, still clad in his full plate mail (with a punctured hole at the abdomen area), only now his head had become something very grotesque. Young Laferdon had become one of them – the beastly creatures that were encircling him. He had become a weretiger!

As he approached, the other lycans parted and let him through. Just at the same time, the one from the yard also entered with a mouth that was stained with horse blood. They all looked on as Laferdon, expressionless, stood facing his former companion.

“Donny, lad. It’s me, Derek, your…”

He barely had a chance to squeeze out the “your” when Laferdon, whose hands now moved with lightning speed, grasped his neck and squeezed with half his palm strength. Sir Derek Firemist had virtually no time to react as his jugular and windpipe broke into tiny pieces inside his throat. He died instantly with his eyes opened, bulging out of their sockets. Mercifully, he was spared the knowledge of what happened next to his body as the lycans, Sir Laferdon included, moved in for the feast.

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In the predawn hours, shortly after they had finished their latest meal of human and horseflesh, the five lycans gathered inside the ruined Hiltonus house. Then, confident that they weren’t seen, they allowed their natural transformation to commence. All feline features soon disappeared, and replaced by perfect human features.

Then, after cleaning themselves of any traces of blood, the five men – led by Sir Laferdon Illarum – ran back to town, to their guildmaster, Boulithine Caerthan. There were a lot of things to discuss.

(*To Be Continued*)