The Darkness Within (Part 2)

Chapter 3:
Doomed to obscurity.

The path from Dawn traveled in a southern direction for quite a ways. Nevertheless, Slade trekked down it without a single glance back. The sun had only just begun its western descent, and daylight still basked all around in a calming light. Birds chirped in trees, flitting about from branch to branch as the landscape turned to forest around the traveler. A half-smile lingered on his features as he surveyed the beauty about him.

“Such a magnificent place.” He thought aloud, stopping for a moment to absorb the world around him, “Such beauty could never have existed in that dreary cave. It is almost like a dream. However, in the case of dreams, we must always awaken. Then everything will vanish; much like a bubble on a needlepoint.” The swordsman turned his gaze to take in more, "Need to quit talking to myself and keep moving. Perhaps luck is on my side and I will find shelter for tonight.” A final glance upward, and Slade began his trek down the path once more, “Not that I would mind sleeping under the stars.”

The well-worn dirt road soon cut its way into forest, though it remained very well traveled. Night fell as the swordsman continued his trek, and much to his favor, nothing happened to impede Slade’s progress. In fact, the traveling was quite peaceful. It was a beautiful night, and stars shined brightly in the heavens above. A bright, full moon began its ascent and cast a pale glow upon the surrounding woods. A truly lovely night indeed, and it seemed as though Slade would be sleeping beneath this lovely sky. Until, however, he saw the smoke.

“By the blade…” The swordsman said aloud as he watched a faint wisp of smoke in the distance float upward, “The fates must be on my side. I would bet my sword that that’s a village up ahead.” His pace quickened, and after a few moments the woods around Slade began to thin. He also began a slight ascent as the path climbed a hill. Upon reaching the top, the swordsman’s suspicions were proven. The hill upon which he stood was steeper on the opposite side, descending into a low valley. Nestled between rolling hills on three sides, and more forest on the other, was a small village, surrounded by a misty fog. Smoke was rising from the chimneys of the many houses.

“It is a miracle, I s’pose- or am I thinking too much into it? Perhaps I should just be thankful. Ha! Listen to me, talking to myself again and my journey has only just began.” Slade gave another half-smile, starting his walk down the sloping road and into the village below.

The swordsman’s walk swiftly became run as he approached the village’s entrance, then slowed to stop as he glanced about to take in his surroundings. The village before which he stood was surrounded by wooden fence, at least twenty feet in height, with an archway at each entrance; one of which he stood before and another opposite it. Across the archway, Slade was able make out the name of the town: “Mist Valley.”

“Halt! You there! What business have you in this village at such an hour?!” A voice shouted from the gate, causing Slade to start and reach instinctively for the blade on his back. In his distraction, he had failed to notice a young man standing just within the entrance.

This encounter brought about a drastic change in Slade's mood. He found himself instinctively putting up a cold demeanor, not releasing his grip on sword, as he studied the stranger intently.

“Pardon me.” The young man sighed, waving a hand for Slade to relax his guard, “I seem to have forgotten my manners. Allow me to try again.” Slade relaxed a little, crossing his arms and fixing the young man with a cold stare, who responded by smiling and speaking once more, “Hail, traveler! I am called Cynhard, and I am one of the guardians of this small village. The night brings many dangers, and for such a reason I must be cautious. Many a bandit and monster have materialized from the mist that lingers about. I was just about to lock the gate for the night. If you wish to join us, you may rest in peace within our walls.” Bowing slightly, you gestured for Slade to come forward.

Still remaining silent, the swordsman slowly stepped forward and through the gates. A sudden and loud crash caused him to start slightly again, and a quick turn around revealed that Cynhard had slammed shut the massive gate. He secured it tightly by sliding a large plank of wood across it, and then turned to face Slade once more.

“Again, I must apologize for my earlier rudeness. Allow me a proper introduction, if you would.” Cynhard extended a hand, and Slade studied the guardian for a moment. He had a handsome face, with calm blue eyes and sandy-brown hair. He wore an iron breastplate with a chain-linked tunic beneath, and his hands wore covered by leather gauntlets. Strapped to his back was a large, sharply tipped battle-axe. Relaxing his guard once more, Slade grasped the guard’s extended hand and shook. The guard smiled, “Ah, many thanks, traveler. Again, I am Cynhard. Who might you be, and what brings you to our humble town?”

“Slade.” Answered the swordsman softly, crossing his arms once more, “I… I have no home to which I can return. I simply followed the road and was led here.”

“I see.” Responded Cynhard grimly, “Might you be one of those roguish types? Out to do anything for a gold piece?” He gestured to sword strapped to Slade’s back, “Or do you use that to chop firewood?”

“Hmph. Do you chop wood with yours?“ The traveler nodded towards the axe on Cynhard’s back, then continued, “I suppose you could say that. My being a rogue, I mean.” Slade shrugged, his voice soft, “I don’t have many other skills.”

“I hear tale… You types would slit your own mother’s throat for ‘alf a gold piece.” Cynhard’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the swordsman, as if he were studying Slade’s very soul.

“Haven't got a mother to kill.” Slade responded in a barely-audible tone.

“Pardon me?” Cynhard inquired, “I didn’t quite hear that.”

“I said…” Responded Slade, hesitating briefly, then cracking a half-smile and fixing Cynhard with a cold gaze, “I said that’s not my style. I‘ll only take a job if I feel it‘s worthy of my effort or for a good cause.”

“Haha.” Cynhard chuckled softly, “That's what I like to hear. I think I may be able to help you.”

“Oh?” Slade inquired, raising an eyebrow, “How so?”

Cynhard did not respond at first, but merely pointed down the road to the third building on Slade’s right-hand side. “There. That is the town inn, called “Warrior’s Haven.” Rest there this night, and I shall explain more come morning. Tell the innkeeper that I sent you.”

Fixing the guard with a gaze once more, then glancing over his shoulder toward the inn, Slade nodded slightly. “Very well.” He then turned, “I bid you a good night, then, Cynhard. Until morning.” Without another word, the swordsman walked down the road.

“Until morning, traveler, and sleep well.” Muttered the guard as Slade got out of earshot. He tilted his head back to look to the stars, “A full moon tonight… Hm?” Off in the distance, a wolf’s howl sounded, and Cynhard sighed. “The creatures of the mist will certainly be on the prowl tonight… Slade was lucky to reach us when he did.”

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The Inn of Warrior’s Haven was properly named, and Slade noticed this upon entering. A warm, peaceful atmosphere greeted him within. A fireplace blazed softly in the corner, filling the room with an orange light and casting shadows of the sparse furniture on the walls. A few wooden chairs were placed around the fireplace, and a small desk sat opposite it. An aging man, dozing with his head propped up by one arm, rested behind it.

“Erm. Excuse me…” Slade approached him cautiously, “Hello?”

“Uh, er, wha? Ah! Yes!” The man suddenly bolted upright, looking around the room. A pair of spectacles hung from his ear. He fixed them, then focused his beady gaze upon Slade, “Oh, a customer, I see. And at this hour.”

“Yes. Customer… Right.” Slade, clearing his throat, nodded. “Cynhard sent me.”

“Did he now?” Asked the innkeeper, fixing his glasses, “Another sacrifice for the Duke, eh? When will that man learn to fight his own battles?”

“Excuse me?” Slade tilted his head, eyeing the strange innkeeper suspiciously, “Did you say… sacrifice?”

“Pardon me! I tend to go off on tangents like that. Silly little habit, really.” The man chuckled dryly, smiling brightly up at Slade, “So you’d like a room, eh? No charge.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, to a small hallway. “First empty room you come to, traveler. Rest well.”

Slade eyed the strange man for a few moments longer, then nodded and started walking down the hallway. “Thanks, old one.” He muttered as he left. The innkeeper did not respond.

“…” As Slade vanished into one of the rooms, the old man smiled, “I may be old, yes. I only hope you live to see as much as this old body has. Maybe you‘ll be the one to come back alive from Cynhard‘s foolish quest.”

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The next day brought sunshine, and Slade sat up in his bed. The smell of a delicious meal invaded his senses, and he sat up to see just that waiting on a plate beside his bed. He devoured it ravenously, and then got ready to depart. A good night‘s rest and a warm meal were just the things Slade needed to restore his strength. He shouldered his sword and left his room.

“Good morning, Slade.” A smiling Cynhard met the swordsman as he stepped out of the inn doors, “Or rather, afternoon. You must have been exhausted.”

“Yes, quite, actually.” Responded Slade, eyeing the guard calmly as he instinctively turned the subject to business at hand, “Now let's talk. You mentioned being able to help me?”

“Do you fight well?” Cynhard said quickly, eyeing the sword on Slade’s back much like he had done the previous night.

“I get by… Now answer me.” Slade’s response was equally quick.

“Excellent.” Cynhard relaxed, smiling again. “My lord wishes to hire individuals such as yourself. There’s a certain… individual… that has appeared recently in the woods around this village. He’s the rogue sort, murdering and looting travelers and such.” Slade’s expression became serious as Cynhard continued, “Only he’s no ordinary thief. He’s a monster. My lord has sent all the guards the town can spare to fight him, and none have returned successful… Very few have returned at all. That is I why I ask for your help.”

Slade nodded, “How much are we talking?”

“Here.” Cynhard removed a sack from his belt, handing it to Slade. Gold coins jingled within as the swordsman took it. “There’s more if you return successful.” Added the guard.

“Hm.” Slade placed the sack of gold within his haversack, and then nodded. “I’ll need more details.”

Cynhard smiled once more, “My lord will be most pleased to hear you‘ve agreed.”

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That evening, Slade departed from the village of Mist Valley to the woodlands surrounding it. Cynhard had given him more information than he had expected: the rogue’s name was unknown, but apparently he stood at a height about six feet and dressed in complete back. His single eye glowed red as blood, and the other was hidden behind an eyepatch. He had recently been seen in a small clearing within these woods, and this was where Slade headed.

“If I’m not the first they’ve sent out here.” Slade muttered to himself, following the path into the increasingly darkening woodlands, “This guy must really bee as good as Cynhard warned.”

Night fell quickly as Slade made his deeper into the forest. It was deathly quiet, as though all life sensed the swordsman’s excitement and was watching his every move. Even Slade himself fell under the spell, slowly breathing as to not disturb the silence around him. Finally, the oppressive atmosphere shattered and the sound of a crackling fire reached Slade’s ears. Ahead, he saw the orange light and slowly approached. A clearing came into view, a campfire made in the middle of it. There, sitting upon a log, Slade saw his prey: a figure draped in a black cloak.

“This must be the place…” Spoke the swordsman boldly as he stepped into the clearing.

“…” The black figure did not move. A deep, growling voice answered Slade, “Another mercenary… Why can they not leave me in peace!?”

The swordsman took a moment to think on this, “Mercenary, eh…? “ A half-smile appeared on his features, “Hm, I like it.” Slade, drawing his sword and holding it before him, spoke once more to his query, “Yes… I am another mercenary, bandit. And I’ll have you know; Bandits are never taken kindly to. Shall we get started?”

“I only ask to be left alone.” Spoke the figure, rising to his feet. A gloved hand appeared from within the cloak, lowering the hood. “That is all I ask!” The man threw off his cloak and turned to stare face-to-face at Slade. He was young, not much older than the 'mercenary'. Brown hair brushed against his shoulder, and his left eye indeed glowed with an unearthly red light. His other was hidden behind an eyepatch. His clothing was black as night: pants and shirt made of cloth, gloves, and boots. The belt across his waist held a gleaming cutlass, and the young man drew it slowly, pointing it at Slade with a flick of his wrist, “But you won’t listen. Your type never listens.”

The mercenary chose to ignore these comments, instead introducing himself in a calm voice, “I am called Slade. I would like to know the name of the one I am about to fall.”

“Biske.” Said the other simply, “Learn it well. It’s the last name you’ll ever hear! Yaaaah!” With another cry, Biske raised his cutlass and charged toward Slade with almost inhuman speed. The mercenary was almost taken off-guard, but managed to lift his two-handed sword in time to block Biske’s downward slash. The two weapons locked, each warrior trying to shove the other back.

“Grr…” Slade growled, glaring into the face of his opponent, “Such… strength…” He could feel himself being pushed back, “But I can’t lose!” With a sudden burst of energy, he exerted all his strength forward and knocked Biske off-balance, beginning a charge all his own.

Slash! Clank! Clink! The sounds of metal-on-metal rang throughout the forest as Slade slashed and Biske parried. The two warriors seemed equally matched. They each jumped back, breathing heavily as they stared one another down.

“You’re… better than the… others.” Biske said in his growling voice, breathing heavily. His eye seemed as though it had lost its luminescence as he watched Slade.

“Aye… You aren’t so bad yourself. A worthy opponent, indeed…” Slade half-smiled, meeting Biske’s gaze and readying himself for the next round. The skies darkened above as clouds began to grow heavy with rain. Lightning suddenly flashed, and a roar of thunder rang out in the skies above and rain fell. It was as though the heavens themselves were watching the two warriors battle.

They charged again. Sparks flew from the two blades as they locked swords once more. The rain grew heavier as each warrior exerted his full strength against the other. Both cried out in fury, Biske’s eye seeming to glow once again. There was another flash of lightning, another crash of thunder, and two thuds as both weapons flew from the warriors’ grasps. Slade’s sword, knocked away, buried itself deep within the trunk of a nearby tree. Biske’s cutlass flew to the side and its point dug itself into the ground near the now-smoldering campfire.

Slade smiled again, tightening his fists and eyeing Biske. He smiled as well, mimicking the motion. Then they lunged forward again, locking hands and they shoved at one another, each trying to gain ground. Slade suddenly fell back, kneeing Biske in the gut and flipping him. The man in black landed hard on his back. He winced, but quickly jumped back to his feet, swinging a fist hard and hitting Slade smartly in the jaw. The mercenary stumbled back again and Biske charged, tackling Slade. The two rolled across the muddy clearing, stopping with Slade atop the now pinned Biske. Gripping his collar, the mercenary landed punch after punch, and blood flowed from the fallen one’s mouth. But Biske did not give up. His eye growing brighter and brighter, the black-clad man growled lowly and reached up quickly, clutching Slade’s tunic and literally hurling the mercenary the side. Both warriors quickly stood, and the torrent around them grew fiercer. There stared each other down once more.

“You’re no ordinary human…” Slade cried above the storm.

“You don’t know the half of it…” Responded Biske.

“Don’t I?” Slade smiled again. Another flash of lightning lit up the clearing, and the mercenary charged. Biske acted quickly, grabbing Slade’s arm and flipping him over his shoulder. The mercenary cried in pain as his back slammed against the ground near the remains of the campfire. Biske leapt atop Slade, pinning him to the ground this time and began pummeling the mercenary. Slade’s face became numb, and he could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. A glint a metal suddenly caught his eye. Biske’s cutlass was just within reach! Acting quickly, Slade reached out and grasped the jeweled hilt. He tugged it from the ground and jabbed it upward with all the strength he could muster. The blade buried itself deep with in Biske’s shoulder, and he roared with pain.

Seizing the moment, Slade flipped his opponent aside and leapt up. Dashing the tree his sword had buried itself in earlier, he retrieved the prized blade and hurried back to Biske, who had now risen to one knee and removed the cutlass from his shoulder. Blood flowed freely from the wound, mixing with the rainwater and falling to the ground. He tried to stand as he felt metal touch his throat. Glancing up, Biske saw Slade standing above him, holding his sword downward.

“The battle is mine.” Spoke the mercenary calmly.
Biske smiled, closing his eye, “Huh… Guess you can’t win them all, eh?” A dry chuckle came form his throat, “No matter, I suppose. I fought a good fight.” He lowered his gaze and tossed his weapon aside. Speaking with a soft voice, he looked up into the eyes of Slade, “To the victor goes the spoils, mercenary. All that’s left is for you to finish me off.”

“…” Slade continued to hold his blade’s tip against Biske neck, but his voice momentarily left him. He stared down into the eyes of the defeated. “Long ago…” The mercenary found his voice, but it was weak, “My life was spared by one that ought to have killed me…” He lowered the blade of his sword, returning to the sheath on his back, “Today, I grant you the same kindness.”

“Hah…” Biske’s body began to shake as he looked into the serious face of his opponent, “Haha… Hahaha!” The black-clad individual was actually laughing! Falling backwards, he crossed his legs as he sat upon the wet grass. The rain slowly began to cease.

“What’s so funny?!” Slade felt his ire rising as he looked upon the obviously mad individual.

“I never thought I’d hear someone say something like that with a straight face!” Biske grabbed his gut as he shook with more suppressed laughter. The wounds he’d received from the battle seemed to not bother him at all. In fact, his shoulder wound looked to have already stopped bleeding.

Slade glared down at Biske. Then his gaze softened, a smile appearing on his own lips. “Heheh.” He chuckled a little himself, despite all his wounds. Sitting himself upon the ground, he thought about this for a moment, “Yeah… I guess you’re right. It does sound rather odd… Bright-eyed idealism, I guess you could say… Hahah.”

“Of course.” Biske chuckled again, reaching out and placing a gloved hand on the mercenary’s shoulder, “You’re a rare case in this insane world, Slade.”

“Speak for yourself.” Slade knocked the hand away, speaking in a calm tone, “Anyone who can manage a laugh after such a battle cannot be all bad. Tell me how it came to be that you’re the murderous bandit and monster the guards speak of in Mist Valley.”

“Long story…” Biske’s voice became suddenly distant as he looked up, “The bandit part is a lie, though. I can get by well enough on my own without taking from others.”

“And the monster part…?.” Slade asked quietly.

“So what brings you to this part of the world? It can‘t possibly be the wide array of job opportunities. That‘s my guess.” Biske inquired with a sudden change of subject.

Slade did not pursue the question any further. “You’d guess correctly.“ He responded. A couple of moments of silence passed before he found how to phrase his response, “I’m… on a journey of self-truth.”

“Heh.” Biske chuckled again, “Hahaha! Something else I’d never expected to hear…”

“Must you laugh at everything I have to say?” Slade asked in an annoyed tone.

“If you continue spouting such nonsense, then yes.” Biske said with sarcasm, “Regardless, I hope you don’t mind a traveling companion."

“Oh?” Slade tilted his head, “What makes you say that?“

“I owe you for the thrashing you gave me earlier. I’m not about to let you walk off without repaying my debt.” Answered Biske coolly, still chuckling to himself.

Suddenly, something sparked recollection in Slade’s mind. “…‘A cursed soul who fights alone.’” Spoke the mercenary aloud.

Biske tilted his head, “You say something…?”

Slade smirked this time, evading the question casually. “Long story…” It appeared that he had made a new friend of an enemy in battle, and gained a traveling companion as well. Could the prophecy be coming true…?

Chapter 4:
Deadly Omen.

After much debate, it was decided that Slade and Biske should return to Mist Valley with the news of their battle. It was unknown how the guards would react, for instead of slaying the bandit, Slade had befriended him. It was still unclear to Slade how Biske had earned such a reputation. He seemed normal enough, yet the mercenary could tell that there was more to this rogue than met the eye.

Traveling back down the path through the woods, Slade came to relate key pieces of his own story to Biske. The single-eyed man nodded slowly as he listened quietly to the tale. “I see…” He finally spoke as Slade finished his account, “Knights of the Dark Sword, eh? It’s no wonder I was unable to beat you… I hear tale that those guys are ruthless.”

“Aye.” Slade nodded, touching the hilt of his sword, “I suppose I owe them at least some thanks.”

“More than you seem to think…” Spoke Biske lowly, “They did spare your life.”

“As I spared yours.” Slade was quick to respond, then to sigh, “But let us not dwell on the past. Instead, what are we to do now? More importantly, when we reach the village?”

“Beats me.” Biske shrugged, “Do we even have to go back there?”

“I took a job,” Slade explained, “And I fully intend to see it through to its completion.”

“I don’t think they’re going to like this…” Biske warned, nodding toward something on the path further ahead.

It was the back gate to the village. While they were speaking, they’d covered quite a bit of ground and were already within sight Mist Valley. A figure could be seen standing in the gate.

“It appears we have company…” Slade sighted the figure, immediately recognizing it as that of Cynhard, “Bet he’s going to be a bit irked…”

Biske lowered his single eye, watching the guard as they drew nearer. “Why do you say that?” He asked, not even looking at Slade.

“He’s already paid me…” Spoke the mercenary evasively, “…for your death.”

“…” Biske turned his head, giving Slade a harsh stare, “Did he, now..?” He spoke in a low tone, “Well… Looks like he’s going to be a bit disappointed, isn’t he?”

“Yeah…” Replied Slade.

“Unless you’d rather finish the job?” Asked Biske, a malicious grin appearing on face.

“I thought we were through fighting?” Slade questioned, returning Biske’s stare.

“For now… ‘lo, looks like your friend has spotted us… And you’re right, he doesn’t look too thrilled.” Biske turned his gaze toward the village ahead, nodding toward the figure of Cynhard.

The guard had been watching Slade and Biske since they had come within sight of Mist Valley, and it was true that he did not appear thrilled at the sight of Biske. He fixed the travelers with a glare as they drew nearer, his gauntleted hands at ready to grip his axe. However, soon something drew his attention away from the two… The sky above was darkening once again. The brief lull in the weather seemed to be drawing to a close. A slight breeze shook the limbs of the trees, and an eerie silence fell upon the surroundings. Something was not right… Cynhard’s gaze turned from the two to the side of the road, where within the growth he thought he spotted something.

“Biske… Before we get to town, I’d like to ask you something.” Slade had turned his gaze from Cynhard to look upon his companion again. Biske met his gaze, and the mercenary continued, “Why is it the people of this village think you a monster? I mean… You said yourself, you weren’t the type to rob others.”

“…” Biske did not respond at first, “…I can only think of one reason… But I haven’t been here long enough for it to occur…”

The cryptic response puzzled Slade at first, but before he could respond something caught his eye. His gaze shifted to the trees to the side of the road. “…Something’s out there…” He spoke lowly, hand reaching for his sword.

“SLADE!” A sudden cry rose from ahead on the path, followed by the slamming of the gates to the village, “Behind you!” Cynhard suddenly came charging down the road, just as Slade turned to look upon what was behind him.

“Grrrrrrrr….” A muzzle full of sharp teeth, and the intense heat of a monster’s breath greeted the mercenary. Standing before him was the largest, monster of a wolf he had ever seen. It stood eye-to-eye with him while on all fours, its eyes a luminous green in color. Its pelt was mixture light and dark grays, and saliva dripped from its fangs as it growled once more. Slade was dumbstruck, and before he could reach for his weapon, the monstrous wolf tilted back its head to give forth a bone-chilling howl. It then raised a foreleg and slashed at Slade with the back of its paw, knocking the mercenary to the ground at the side of the road.

“Bastard…” Biske quickly recovered from his initial shock, and threw off his cloak. He drew his cutlass once again, “I can’t stand wolves… ‘Specially ones as ugly as you. Come on!” He leapt forward, landing atop the back of the beast and jabbed his blade into it. Another shrill, pain-filled howl arose from the monster as it reared back on his hind legs. Crimson fluid flowed from the wound as Biske drew his sword, falling to the ground. He caught himself, stood upright, and charged toward the monster as it turned face him. “Hyah!” Biske cried as his shoulder contacted with monster’s chest. The two fell into a roll, disappearing amidst the foliage of the woods.

By now Slade had risen and Cynhard had reached the two. He dusted himself and drew his own weapon, turning to the guard. “I think you made a mistake in judgment, Cynhard.” He said coldly.

“What do you mean by that?” Asked the guard, drawing his axe.

“Biske isn’t your monster…” Spoke the mercenary, “I believe it’s safe to assume that thing was.”

“I think you may be rig-” Cynhard was cut off as more howls arose from all around. As suddenly as the first had appeared, more wolves materialized from the woods all around. They made their way onto the path and toward the two warriors… Ten of the monsters, five on each side, slowly approached.

Slade and Cynhard slowly moved toward the center of the road, standing back-to-back. Snarling wolves drew closer, and the two held their weapons at ready. “Think we can take them?” Cynhard asked calmly, locking eyes with one of the closer beasts.

“Depends…” Slade responded, “And to answer your question last night… I do use this thing for more than chopping firewood.”

“That’s good to hear.” Cynhard smiled, tightening the grip on his axe. Heavy rain began to fall once more, and a crash of thunder boomed from the heavens.

The battle began. With a sudden lunge forward, Cynhard leapt into the fray. Bringing his axe down hard, he beheaded one of the beasts in a single blow. The blade went clean threw the wolf’s flesh, burying itself into the dirt road as another of the wolves pounced at him. Ducking quickly, it soared over him. The guard straightened and freed his axe with a mighty pull. He turned and swung, knocking one of the monsters senseless with the flat of the axehead. Slade, meanwhile, chose to jump back rather than charge headlong into battle. One of the monsters leapt forward at the same instant. A quick jab pierced the monster’s skull, felling it instantly. A sharp tug and a horizontal slash to the right left a deep gash in the chest of another. Diving to the side skillfully, Slade avoided the claw of another wolf. He climbed to his feet as Cynhard retreated to him. They stood back to back again. Six of the beasts with the will to fight remained, and the two warriors were breathing heavily. The wounds he received in his earlier battle with Biske had reopened, leaving Slade feeling weak. The wolves were growling menacingly, circling the two warriors.

“Seems we’re still outnumbered…” Cynhard chuckled.

“Yeah… Looks that way… Heh..heh … Ergh.” Slade tried to manage a smile, but winced visibly.

“You alright there, friend?” Cynhard turned, looking at the mercenary with worry on his features.

“Grrr!!!” A bad move. One of wolves seized this opportunity and pounced at Cynhard’s exposed back. Schwing! In the blink of an eye, Slade darted forward. The tip of his blade met the wolf’s chest as it was still in midair. The beast fell lifeless to the ground and the mercenary drew his sword. The battle raged once more. The remaining five beasts charged forward, and through their sheer will to survive, Slade and Cynhard managed to fend off their attackers’ blows. One of the wolves pounced at Cynhard, pinning him to the ground as the guard managed to lock the grip of his axe in its mouth. He stared up into green of eyes of the monster as its powerful jaws threatened to snap his weapon in two. Slade took a deep slash across his chest, and the blow shredded the front of his tunic. He stumbled backwards, but a sharp downward slash managed to fell another of the beasts. Things were looking grim for the battered warriors, until…

From the woods rose another howl, this one more frightening the any of the previous. A sudden blur appeared from the trees, leaping onto the road… The two warriors then saw a horrific image. Standing on a few feet away was another wolf. But this one was different… It stood on its hind legs, and was at least seven feet high. An extremely dark gray fur covered its body, and it wore black clothing, shredded and full of holes in many places. Huge claws extended from its almost human-like hands, but this monster’s most frightening features were its eyes… They glowed bright red with the very flames of hell itself. Everything froze, as all eyes seemed to be on this new arrival. The other wolves growled lowly as they looked upon it, and the lupine ears atop the beast’s head twitched slightly as it focused its gaze upon the others.

With a flash of lightning, time returned to normal and the battle raged once again. Forgetting the two warriors, the remaining four wolves charged the new arrival simultaneously. The first to reach it met its end with a slash of the man-wolf’s right hand. Before its carcass could fall to the ground, the monster ran forward and managed to grab hold of another wolf’s neck. The snap of bone was heard as the beast tightened its grip, breaking the neck of its foe. Then, in a feat of superhuman strength, the wolf man lifted the beast’s corpse above its head with a monstrous roar and slammed it carcass down hard upon another. Only one other wolf remain… It growled fiercely at the wolf man, who simply gaze an equally fierce growl… They simply locked eyes, neither moving,

“Grr…. Yaaa!” However, it was neither wolf man nor wolf that made the first move as Cynhard’s axe came down hard on the remaining beast. Its head fell to the muddy road, and the guard lifted his axe. He stared up at the remaining monster. Slade walked over, standing next to him with sword in hand.

The man-wolf made no effort to attack the two warriors. Rain continued to fall hard, as they looked upon this beast in complete silence. The monster looked down at them as well, its eyes slowly losing their luminescence. After several moments of silence, the beast suddenly let out another monstrous howl, and fell forward into the mud of the road. There was huge crash of thunder, followed by a blinding flash of lightening. When it passed, there lay not the body of a monster in the road, but the unconscious form of Biske.