Brothers of the Blade

                                            Brothers of the Blade

                                                  J. G. Green


                          Steel swords flash in the light of the moon
                          that savagely slash, rend, cut, and wound
                          the beasts of the night and the dark born horrors
                          slain by two, sharing a bond born between warriors.
                                                         -The Wanderer's Tale
                                                           

         Steely eyes peered from beneath a furrowed brow as the Northern stranger regarded the boisterous man in the center of the bar room. His well tuned ears perked at the mention of battle, for the stranger was a mercenary and the art of the fight was his trade. He leaned across a pile of cracked flagons, the evidence of his revels that night, and listened more intently to the travelers tale.
         "...So there I was, surrounded on all sides by a ravenous horde of axe wielding orcs. Their fangs glistening with drool. They thought me easy prey, they did. But I soon showed them " His voice raised to a bold crescendo as he swung his mug wildly through the air in front of him like a sharp blade of steel. Ale sloshed over the brim, splattering about the assembly before him. "With a snicker-snack  My blade made short work of the lot of them. I lashed out at them like a wounded panther, my back to the stone face of the cliff. They closed in about me. "
         A collective gasp arose from the enthralled group, a few men snickered in disbelief, and one barmaid even swooned slightly, stumbling and nearly spilling her tray of filthy mugs. The stranger squinted his one eye viciously at the group, for his other was covered by a leather patch. He let the silence reign over the room for a short time before continuing his tale. Then, suddenly, his good eye grew wide. An expression that spoke volumes to the crowd.
         "Then I slew the rest  Summoning up every ounce of my strength. Calling on Zephyria's blessings. By Hoar's white beard  It was a gory sight to behold  Their black blood stained  my broken armor, and painted the blade of my sword like the midnight sky." His eye went wild again as he regarded the crowd of drunks before him. This man was a professional storyteller thought the Northerner rubbing his stubbled chin with a rough hand. Some men make their money the honest way, through toil and battle. Others use less apply less scrupulous methods, mainly through thieving. Then you have your entertainers. They are the worst of the lot. They make their money with out even working for it.
         "I pushed the beasts back, by the gods of Galacia I did  I pushed them back singlehandedly to the very edge of the precipice  They knew they could not win this day, so they fled back to their thrice cursed camps. There I stood, alone. Victorious " He thrust his mug high above him, spilling foam upon his closely cropped gray hair. "And that, gentlemen and ladies, is how I became the captain of the king's guard."
         The Northerner rose from his seat in a menacing way. A once full mug tumbled from the stack before him and smashed upon the trash littered floor. He clapped loudly in a mocking manner. The sudden appearance of his tall lithe form and brooding scowl silenced the excited crowd.
         "I'm glad you appreciated my tale of gore and glory friend." The eye patched stranger bowed extravagantly before the barbarian.
         "Aye, t'was a nice fairytale friend. Though I find it hard to believe it ever actually happened." The gruff Northerner laughed a throaty chuckle as he grabbed a fresh mug off of a passing barmaid's tray. "To those fallen orcs and their thrice damned camps. May the Great Bear curse their souls."
         The barbarian drank deeply after delivering his damning toast as the crowd looked on in awe and shock. The Northerner knew that this stranger had won their trust and confidence through the spinning of his tales, and he had insulted all in the tavern by insulting this man who held all in awe. Though the barbarian welcomed a brawl, it had been too long since he had known the pleasure of clearing a packed tavern of weak armed civilized men. The barbarian would have to wait longer for his fight, for he would not know such tempestuous joys on this night.
         "Come friend from the North, you do not believe my tale?" asked the stranger jovially as he motioned for the bar crowd to go back to their nocturnal festivities. The one-eyed spiner of tales took a stool near the barbarian and flashed him a winning smile, "Perhaps you could tell me one of your own then? I would so like to be entertained for a change."
         A throaty guffaw leapt from the Northerner's chest before he took another long tug from his tankard. "I have no need for the spinning of tales friend, for a Morni of Grey Fogg does not boast." said the barbarian punctuating his statement with a wolfish grin.          
         "A Morni, eh? Here in the civilized land of Willowstone?" queried the stranger aloud more to himself than for the benefit of the barbarian. "So, if you will not tell me of your past deeds, myhaps you'll indulge my curiosity by telling me what brings you so far from your native lands."
         "I suppose there is no harm in such frivolous talk. My wanderings are not a private matter." said the barbarian relaxing his taut frame and his steely gaze. "I merely wish to see the world, to experience what life has to offer beyond the limits of my mist shrouded homeland. I was born with a roving foot and an unquenchable lust for adventure."
         "Our appearances and homelands may vary greatly friend, but I do believe that we are kindred spirits." said the one-eyed stranger with a welcoming grin and a good natured slap across the broad shoulders of the Northern barbarian. "For, you see, I too am a wanderer. My small village could not hold me for too long either, nor any one woman for that matter."
         The two laughed loudly and drank the fill of their mugs till they could see the bottoms. Then the barbarian finally offered his large paw of a hand to the stranger. The stranger took it and shook vigorously, both men sharing a powerful grip on the others hand.
         "Men call me Angus the Wanderer. I am of the Tribe of the Bear." said the large barbarian confidently introducing himself to his new friend. "What should I call you small one?"
         "Men have called me many names my new friend, as have women. Most of those names I'd like to forget." the two shared a long laugh again "You, friend Angus, can call me Crow, Crow the Beastslayer."
         With that handshake both men forged a friendship as mighty as steel. Their differences soon drenched in ale and forgotten beneath a pile of discarded flagons on the filthy floor of the Black Moa Tavern. Hours passed away as grains of sand fall through the center of an hourglass, and Angus and Crow told tales of their past deeds. Of monsters slain and armies slaughtered, of victories won in the darkest hour, and of women romanced and their lusty desires. Both men laughed and joked in the waning light of their dying candle as the darkest night crept on silent feet into the land of Willowstone. Until they had finally both drunk enough to become boastful and proud, for even a Morni can become foolish if plied with enough ale.
         "Tell me friend Angus... Have you heard of the wraith that haunts the hills about these parts?" slurred Crow slamming his tankard hard upon the rough wooden table. "The Conjuration of King's Watch they call it, a phantom created by a necromancer who died millennia agone. I believe his name was Ozmuadeaus, or at least that is what I hear folk say. He was a master of the black arts, and he called these parts his own. That is until brave men came down from the north, and a hero named Alucius of the Hills who led them slew the conjurer. Though, as his dying breath left his blood-stained lips, the necromancer uttered a vile curse and set an apparition upon King's Watch, as the tor where the wizard was slain came to be known. Now, night after night, men shun that spot after the setting of the sun. For all who spend the night upon that cursed hill are never to be seen again."
         Crow finished his tale with an ominous expression plastered across his face, though the severity of the story was lost amongst a few of his inebriated slurs and stammers which lent it a humorous aspect. Angus sat back in his chair and crossed his arms as his friend finished. His expression dour as he pondered the tale.
         "Why do you tell me this tale friend Crow?" asked Angus eyeing his companion curiously across their dimly lit table. "Is their treasure to be found upon this hill?"
         "Nay, no treasure to be had." answered Crow matter-of-factly.
         "Any women to be had from this endeavor?" asked Angus winking wolfishly at the busty wench serving drinks a few tables away. Her womanly attributes spilling over her corset like liquid in the pitcher from which she served the mead. She smiled sweetly back and blew the lusty barbarian a kiss.
         "Nay my new friend Angus, no women either." responded Crow with a chuckle.
         "Well, then answer me friend. Why tell me of this intriguing tale?"perplexed, Angus rubbed his stubbled chin in his massive hand.
         "I say we go out there tonight best pal of mine, to prove which of us is the stronger willed. We will complete this task as a matter of pride. What say you Angus? Will a Morni back down from a challenge such as this?" said Crow testing the mettle of his new friend.
         Angus laughed loudly, then said, "Oh, my foolish little friend. We Morni fear not the conjurations of long dead necromancers, nor do we balk in the face of such a simple task."
         "Well, are you game for this quest my dear friend Angus?" asked Crow of his giant friend.
         "We can leave immediately Beastslayer. I have not yet seen a phantasm in my years, and I have vowed to see all that this world has to offer." stated Angus confidently as he tossed a small bag of coins to the lovely red-haired waif behind the counter. With that, the two adventurers left the warmth of the Black Moa Tavern and headed out beyond the splendid gates of the walled city. Their walk to the tor known as King's Watch took them only a few hours. Though late night was already upon them when they spied the craggy towers of a wrecked and ruined outpost outlined in the pale light of a full moon on the horizon. A chilling wind poured down from the ruins tousling Angus's long black locks and whipping Crow's tattered brown cloak about his lithe form as they approached the haunted hill. An unsettling howl sounded some where off in the distance.
         "Nothing like the cool night air to sober up a man's mind from a night of revelry, eh Angus?" asked Crow, eying his companion with a sideways glance as they mounted the hill. His voice was tinged with a slight fear. The realization of his drunken wager now weighing upon his more sensible state of mind.
         "Don't tell me that you are having second thoughts my friend." Angus grinned widely in the light of the moon as they reached the ruined tower. "Or was this all merely the alcohol setting stakes that the drinker can not handle?"
         "No, no, you misinterpret my comment Angus. I merely mean that the cool air has sobered my mind. They call me the Beastslayer, remember? I shirk from no danger." said Crow planting his fists on his hips and puffing out his chest confidently. "Now let us spend the night here beneath this crumbling tower and see if we cannot survive an evening upon this cursed hilltop."
         Crow motioned extravagantly to a spot beneath the toppled remains of the ancient watch tower where the moss grew thick creating a natural cushion for the pair to set upon as they waited out the shadow filled night.  The glowing moon crept higher and higher in the inky darkness, until it finally arced high above the pair as the witching hour drew nearer. They sat in silence beneath the ancient ruins atop the haunted hill until the Mistress Slumber finally drew her gossamer cloak about their eyes and bound them to an unnatural rest. They both dozed a deep sleep akin to dark black depths of death, and as they verged on the edges of consciousness a wispy voice it came to them. A whisper at first in the mist of their dreams. A slight sweet call in the distance. Yet soon the whisper became a siren song and held the travelers within a thrall.
         Their eyes sprang open, or at least this they thought, for outlined lithely in the moonlight danced a nymph of inconceivable beauty. Her skin was pale as the morning dew and her eyes two flickering orbs of the purest obsidian. The hair of the creature framed her frail face with silky locks of spider's webs that swayed rhythmically to music unheard by mortal ears. Her tender legs naught touched the earthen ground, yet she spun as a dervish with limbs unbound. It danced at first, carefree and unashamed by it's nakedness, till soon it discovered the ravenous gaze of the mortal pair upon her supple flesh.
         She stopped, gazed curiously at the pair, and beckoned them forth with a seductive waggle of her slim forefinger. The dreamy air of the moonlit hilltop made it seem to the pair as if time had slowed to a tired pace. She stared longer at the pair, a rapacious fire burned behind her ethereal orbs. Then suddenly the waif threw herself upon the ground before the barbarian and his companion, presenting herself to the both of them. Her soft body welcoming the touch of their rough hands.
         "Perhaps I was wrong barbarian, there are women upon this hill. Lusty women who long for a passionate embrace " Crow could not hide his excitement. His single blue eye flashed amorously as he striped off his scabbard and dagger with fumbling fingers, throwing them upon the moss covered ground. "What ails you Angus, can you not see that wench who waits for us, naked as the day she was born. If you will not have her, then I will "
         On hurried feet, Crow rushed toward the supple nymph. Angus rose cautiously, unlike his eager friend, his sword still hung by his brawny arm. His nose worked like a curious wolf, nostrils flaring slightly, inhaling the cool night air. He smelled an acrid scent, an unnatural stench that had not pervaded his space prior to the appearance of the lovely girl. The barbarian had caught wind of this scent before on his journeys, though his addled mind filled with the cobwebs of an unnatural sleep could not place the origin of the horrid smell. He shook his head slightly, closing his eyes, trying to shake the grey strands of slumber from about his clouded mind. When he looked again upon his impulsive friend he witnessed him not rushing toward a swooning maid of inexplicable beauty, but instead the jaws of a wrong-faced terror. A beast born from the pits of a hellish underworld.
         The beast groped toward Crow with hungry feelers, black tentacles of whipping sinew that threatened to lash the dreamer to death. It's once supple cherubic face replaced by that of gnashing rows of slobbering ivory teeth. Worst of all, the eyes of the demon remained the same as those of the nymph. Though, now Angus saw them for what they really were. Two blazing orbs of black ravenous fire. They were not lusting for the touch of a man, but instead for his flesh.
         "You dolt  Get back here  That is no woman you seek " bellowed Angus after his lusty companion. His hand grasping for the hilt of a wicked dagger upon his belt.
         "Ah, friend Angus  You've come to your senses I see. I'll bet you want her all for yourself, but you can't have her. No way friend, your words will not sway me." said Crow flippantly over his shoulder. Stopping only slightly to taunt the barbarian with a wide toothy grin. The tentacles lashing only inches from the one-eyed traveler.
         "You damned fool, you are going to get yourself flayed alive by that beast " said Angus angrily as he hefted his dagger and threw it with great precision toward the groping horror. With a wet, gory slice the knife thrust hilt deep between the obsidian eyes of the terrible beast. It howled a horrific bellow, the guttural cry of an unnatural abstraction from the Great Beyond. With a shocking jolt, Crow stopped before the wailing beast. His eyes and ears now perceiving it's true form.
         "Oh  How horrible  How dreadful  To think I nearly bedded that creature whilst under the most vile of enchantments." Crow said with an unamused grin, "She's not dead yet friend Angus  Hurry, we've not a moment to lose, toss me my rapier  Only a blade of silver can steal the life from a conjured demon."
         Angus tossed his friend the rapier which had been discarded carelessly in his lust upon the lichened ground. With one deft move, the slayer caught his weapon in the air, stepped forward on a fencer's foot, and planted the blade into the slimy flesh of the ebon beast. The silver hilt glimmered in the waning light of the setting moon as it stuck out of the breast of the dying demon that lay at Crow's feet. It whimpered once, a mournful cry that brought the night to a melancholy end, and then it died. The pair stood over the conjuration as the morning sun rose cheerfully into the grey sky.
         "Tell me friend, how did you resist the deceptive charms of this vile abomination?" asked Crow rubbing his stubbled chin, "I was completely taking in by the creature's masquerade."
         "I smelled something that did not smell right. A Morni's nose is as strong as that of a wolf, so I knew to hesitate." said the barbarian matter-of-factly.
         "Well, what did you smell barbarian?" asked Crow.
         "The scent of brimstone friend. I may not have had much exposure to necromancy during my years of travel, but I do know that such a scent means trouble." Angus said as he looked over at his friend.
         "Brimstone, eh?" Crow said aloud, pondering what his friend had just revealed.
         "Aye, brimstone." Angus laughed heartily.
         Crow kneeled down and pulled the blades free from the ebon abomination. His rapier he wiped clean upon his cloak and replaced it into his scabbard. The dagger he handed back to Angus.
         "It seems, my friend, that we are brothers of the blade now." said Crow as the towering barbarian took the knife from the smaller man's grasp.
         "Aye, it would seem so Crow Beastslayer." said Angus, replacing the dagger in his girdle, "Now, I thirst for adventure. Let us follow this trail to where ever it may lead."
         "I agree Angus, though couldn't we go first back to the Black Moa Tavern?" asked Crow with a winning smile upon his thin lips.
         "For what? We have all we need here friend." said Angus confidently inhaling the sweet morning air deeply into his lungs expanding his thick chest. "The morning sun, an open trail, and the satisfaction of a recent triumph in our hearts."
         "Well, barbarian," said Crow slyly, "There is the matter of that beastly harlot teasing me so. She may have been a flesh hungry beast, though that has not cooled my desire for female companionship. Did you notice how that serving wench had been eyeing me last evening? Surely this recent tale of high adventure would be enough to loosen the ties that bind her corset."
         Angus wound his way down the hillside leaving his friend to protest atop the mount. The sun was rising, a fresh day was upon them, and there was much ground to cover. It was hard to tell what the future held for this raucous pair, but they were sure to find adventure where ever they roamed.