Knight vs. Succubus

"We're almost there, men," Agrius, knight-captain of the Saintly Order, yelled into the dwindling light of dusk.

The wind howled a frightful, discordant note and a powerful rush of air and dirt raced down from atop the rocky plateau, into the treacherous, uphill path that Agrius and his small band labored to climb.

"Cover!" Agrius roared. A curtain of swirling debris lashed down the face of the cliff with the speed of a tumbling avalanche.

The men threw themselves against the ground, one by one, as squad leaders relayed the order through the rank. A hail of rock and dirt slammed against the huddled mass of soldiers mere seconds after the calls went out. Shouts and curses rose and fell like the ebbing tide. After a time, the roaring gale began to dim and fade to a soft breeze.

The captain gained his feet and turned his head ever so slightly over his right shoulder. "Company, recover!"

The men of the troop stood warily, fear and adrenaline plain as day in their eyes. Of course, Agrius knew it wasn't just the storm, the mountain or the fall that troubled them, it was what lay ahead and the dark rumors that had sent his sword forth.

A crackle of heat-lightning traced the sky and the ensuing rumble was the deep basso of an old god's voice. The wind whirled, pulling the swollen mass of dark clouds that wheeled overhead into vicious, ever tightening spirals. The rain came, scattered and infrequent, like blotches of ink.

As the group reached the pinnacle of the path that led to the plateau, the sky broke open, unleashing the true deluge. A flash of lightning raced across the sea of clouds and a fierce white light fell to the earth.

The black, wrought iron gates of Avarithe, the castle built atop the plateau, emerged from the gloom, its sprawling towers like dark fingers trying to tear the heavens asunder. Thunder crackled.

A stone path was cut into the top of the plateau, leading from the black gate to the entrance of the main hall. Avarithe was like darkness itself, for the stones of the castle were cut and laid with great obsidian blocks, sanded to a mirror finish. The growing tempest was reflected in the face of the castle, giving it an almost otherworldly appearance, as if it had coalesced from the bowels of the storm.

"To the great hall, ready your swords!" Agrius bellowed. He drew his blade from its scabbard, holding it aloft to emphasize his command.

There was a cacophony of steel as each squad leader passed the command down the column and soldiers drew their weapons. Agrius moved between the black gates and up the path to Avarithe. Behind him, the men of the Saintly Order followed, the rough shod steel of their boots pounded in unison, broken into two columns with the captain at the head. In the reflection of Avarithe's stone they looked like ghostly apparitions walking the path of the damned.

They had come to deliver light to a bastion of evil. They had come to root out demons set loose upon this world by the Lord of Fire, enemy of all. They had come to fulfill the will of Annovax.

Warning calls erupted from the towers ahead; shadowy figures moved across the ramparts, inhumanly quick, and a den of piercing, high pitched voices shrieked over the tumult of violent thunder. The vision had spoken truth, as Agrius knew in his heart it would. A brilliant flash of lightning found its way to the earth and bathed the castle in wan, white light; the illumination revealed ghastly figures atop the ramparts, their skeletal arms raised, with decayed fingers drawn against bowstrings.

The captain let loose a shout and raised his sword. He broke into a sprint towards Avarithe, where skeletons, the infantry of the Lord of Fire's army, began to amass at the front of the castle hall. The men followed in his wake.

His sword burst to life with soft, golden light, following inlaid filigree that curved down to the pommel. The light became a scintillating sun for a brief moment as bowstring's twanged and arrows whistled amidst the pouring rain. The captain's pace abruptly halted and he slid along the stone pathway for nearly a foot, his body hunched as he grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands and raised it above his head.

The arrows reached their zenith and gravity carried them down towards the formation. The captain swung and the blade's light became a tangible force, splitting the darkness apart as if cleaving night to day. The curtain of rain parted and a rippling wave, like the surging ocean, sped towards Avarithe and the falling arrows. The ground shook. In the reflection the light looked like a comet, careening across the velvet, night sky.

Arrow shafts burst asunder with a violent crack as the tips touched the heart of light. The denizens of the dark screeched and their bones rattled as they fled from the battlements, clawing one another in a macabre melody. The light fell upon them. A howl of voices rent the air as their bodies burst aflame and fell to ash.

A figure in black armor emerged from inside Avarithe's entry-way. It was tall, twice the height of a normal man, with protruding ribs that broke through fractures in its dark breastplate. With a sweep of its staff, the skeletons that had been forming up in front of the castle set off towards the advancing columns.

Mikaylson, the lieutenant of the Saintly Order, screamed, her voice carried in the brief moment of silence left by the sudden charge, punctuated by the heavy clap of rain and the sound of scraping bone. "Necromancer! Ready your shields!"

The squad leaders echoed the command and broad, flat shields that were slung about shoulders were brought to bear.

"For the light!" Mikaylson yelled. The soldiers burst into motion and the two columns parted about their captain, advancing in a tightly clustered formation. Agrius sheathed his blade and fell to the rear.

The necromancer called out, his voice metallic and alien inside his helmet, his words the foul invocation of dark magic. The skeletal horde rushed the Saintly Order's line at breakneck pace, for now that the necromancer was among them they would hold no fear of oblivion.

The armies crashed together, shield on bone, metal against body, and the resultant sound eclipsed even the crackling thunder. Bone splintered. Steel sang. Men screamed. The horde rattled. The horde clawed. The horde howled. But the line held.

Far off, the necromancer's voice boomed and curling veins of darkness flowed forth from the tip of his staff.

The hollow eyes of ten skeletons within the rattling mass began to glow with a sinister light. The necromancer's magic made them frenzied, made them desperate to kill, to rake and claw living flesh. They pushed against the shield-wall with the weight of a tidal wave slamming home against the shore-line.

"Rain of bone, get ready! Second rank, shields into position!" the captain shouted from the rear.

The second file moved into position behind the first and raised shields over their heads. The front covered themselves as much as they could behind the wall of steel.

The glowing skeletons erupted in a shower of splintering bone that smashed against the shield-wall with the force of a cannon. A man screamed, but the line did not falter.

"Advance, lads, let's not let these bastards get the best of us," someone called out from the formation.

As one, the soldiers of the shield wall stepped forward and slammed against the fresh gaps in the horde, forcing their rank to crumble. Swords swept between the first row of soldiers, wielded by the second, ripping into rib-cages, slicing vertebrae and shattering decayed bodies to fragments.

The necromancer snarled and dark magic flowed around his armor, leaving a sickly looking sludge beneath his feet. His staff moved in the air and small shards of bone emerged from the ground; the pieces grew at an alarming rate, first legs, then hips, then rib-cages, each section growing in time with his spell.

Little by little the men advanced and drove a wedge through the center of the mass of bone and a path opened straight to the necromancer.

That was what Agrius had been waiting for. He set into motion.

He moved like the wind through the center of his men, so quick that his white cloak unfurled behind him like a pennant banner, wet though it was. Light surged through his body. The magic invaded his muscles, made him stronger, made him faster for a brief time and he hurled his body into the air, twenty feet towards the castle steps.

The necromancer's wan light dissipated and the growing skeletal bodies fell to pieces in the mud. He whirled towards the captain, staff sweeping out in an arc, but the blow came too late. Agrius grasped him by a shoulder and twirled as he came hurtling from the sky. He slammed the necromancer's back against the ground with a deafening snap. Frightened, pale blue eyes looked up at the captain through a slit in the helm's visor.

Golden light began to pulse between Agrius's fingertips. It crackled down to his palms and flowed into the necromancer.

"By the grace of Annovax, Child of Light, I cast you from this realm, demon," the captain growled.

Light blossomed from beneath the necromancer's flesh and became a coruscating fountain that spiraled into the night sky.

"Fall to ruin!"

The necromancer's skin sloughed away, leaving behind only stark white bone, faded embers and an imprint of gray ash.

The skeletal horde threw their heads collectively into the air and howled. The magic of the necromancer, the magic that bound them in this realm and gave them life, was gone. Their bones dissolved to ash and soaked into the ground, mixing with the pooling water.

The captain took a deep breath and regained his feet to look about the entrance to Avarithe Castle; there were hundreds of tiny candles atop silver polished sconces, mounted every four feet. Their flames left behind soft, yellow light that seemed to barely chase away the lingering shadow. They had taken the entrance hall.

Lieutenant Mikaylson and the rest of the men filed into the castle shortly after, looking no worse for the wear. Lightning burst along the sky and a flash of white, dazzling light poured in from somewhere up above.

"What's the status, lieutenant?"

"One wounded, but not critically. A piece of bone cut the back of Loflen's neck, he's being tended to now. We're just bloody drenched, sir."

The captain turned to Mikaylson and pulled her aside. "What do you make of the situation, lieutenant?"

"Of the castle?"

Agrius nodded.

"Annovax wouldn't have sent us here for just one necromancer. The Child of Light gave Cristus his vision for a reason, there's more here in Avarithe, captain. I can feel it."

"I feel it too. Have the men break out provisions, ten minute rest, no more, no less." Agrius smiled and slapped Mikaylson on the top of her silver wrought pauldron. "We've cleared the first hurdle, after this is over, you and the men can return to Verith as heroes. You'll be in excellent company."

The lieutenant's lips curled into a wide grin. "Hero of Annovax, Anna Mikaylson, I do like the sound of that, sir."

Agrius let loose a barking laugh and turned towards the interior hall. "Set the men to task, lieutenant. After the rest, set guards along the interior and come find me in the dining hall."

"Your will, my hands, captain."

Mikaylson strode towards the men as Agrius wandered deeper into the castle interior. The wind howled through the corridor, causing yellow flames to gutter and some to snuff out entirely.

Agrius placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw steel at a moment's notice. There were no windows, no doorways, just flickering candlelight for fifty paces and the heavy sound of his breath echoing in the silence.

The stone eventually gave way to a large black gate, pulled up to allow entry into the castle's dining hall. The mechanism looked to be well taken care of. It was oiled steel with pristine gear-work that kept the gate suspended, though one click of the mechanism's wooden lever would send the counter-weight rising to the ceiling, pulled by steel chains, sealing the fortress against an invading force.

The ceiling, instead of smooth stone, became a grand tapestry of wooden slatted beams, layered higher than any ceiling Agrius had ever seen before; there were forty long trestle tables of oiled, rich, cherry wood laid about the room with a dozen hearths running parallel.

There were too many sconces to count and at least three times that number in wax tapers that ran the perimeter of the hall, leaving golden halos of soft light that - with the help of the glowing hearths - illuminated the entire room. It was as if he'd stepped into the castles of the capital, where a royal feast would be served. It was odd, but the candles were the worst of it, they'd only been recently lit, most without the slightest hint of wax running down the side as far as Agrius could tell.

At the end of the dining hall Avarithe became a fortress again. An upraised dais, accessible by a dual flight of curling stairs, led to the second level of the castle where the towers were, the gate, opposite the entry corridor, led to the central courtyard, where soldiers could train or where food could be grown, and the lower passages, flanked at the sides of both walls, led into the dungeons.

Agrius turned as footsteps echoed from the corridor he'd come from. Lieutenant Mikaylson, at the head of two columns, emerged from the gloom. The surprise on her face was evident as she looked up at the ceiling and the roaring fires.

"You didn't need to do this for us, captain. Bloody hell, sir, I know I said the men were cold but how did you have the time for this?"

Agrius narrowed his eyes and tapped the hilt of his sword. "I didn't, lieutenant."

Mikaylson's face went ashen white. "Draw your swords," she said over her shoulder. "Begin searching the hall in teams."

The men pulled their swords and filed into the room, Mikaylson approached the captain and slipped her blade free from its sheath. She leaned in close, her voice a tight whisper.

"What the hell is going on here, sir?"

Agrius began to shrug and was interrupted by a husky, feminine voice that reverberated from the other end of the dining hall. "Your end, servants of Annovax."

Agrius and his men turned and saw atop the dais, leaning against the black iron balcony, a woman of stunning beauty. She had long, dark hair that curled to the small of her back, keen, blue eyes, a statuesque figure and lips so erotically plump that it was impossible to mistake her for human. Her skin was alabaster and pristine, as if it'd never tasted a day of hard labor in the sun. She was wearing a white, figure hugging dress with a single slit at her hip that showed off delicately muscled legs.

She would've been the most attractive woman in the kingdoms, if not for the pair of black, bat wings that unfurled from her shoulders, drawn to their full span, so that the shadows made by them enveloped the wall.

"A succubus..." Agrius growled.

The gears of the gate mechanism came to life and chains rapidly spun through the metal teeth. The counter-weight was pulled to the ceiling in seconds, too quick for any of the Saintly Order members to react.

The black gate, the gate that could bar an army entry into Avarithe Castle, fell with a violent crash. The fortress was sealed. The mechanism broke apart. They were trapped.

The succubus laughed and clapped her hands together delightedly. "Never did I expect the hero of Verith to be so easily captured."

Agrius stepped forward and drew his sword free with one, smooth motion. The metal sang. Light, golden and beautiful, yet terrible in its power burst forth from the captain's body causing a surge of wind that swept the hall, moving tables, tossing chairs and causing the candles of the hall to sputter. "I would take less delight in being trapped here with me, monster. You have no idea what you've done."

The succubus ran the tip of her tongue around her eternally wet lips, as if relishing the taste of his words. "Oh, Sword-Saint, I know exactly what I've done."

As the echo of her voice faded away, five necromancers, dressed much like the first, emerged into the dining hall from the courtyard. Behind them, a horde of skeleton soldiers amassed, their bones and tattered patches of skin wet with fresh rain. A horde of archers rushed the dais from the watch-tower doors and spread out around the succubus in two, thirty long rows.

Behind them, the guards they'd left at the entry-way screamed, then abruptly fell silent. Dozens of feet clicked from inside the dark corridor and high-pitched, blood curdling howls rose above the storm that raged outside.

The dark haired monster leaned against the iron rails and peered down at the members of the Saintly Order with a thoughtful expression. Her breasts swelled against the metal until the faintest outline of her nipples bled through her dress.

"The Lord of Fire is very interested in you, captain--"

"I'm flattered."

"He's studied you," she continued, as if he hadn't interrupted. "He knows how you think, how you feel, your techniques, your darkest fears and most important of all, how much you care for your men, so I'll extend this charitable offer only once: give yourself to the Lord of Fire and we'll spare the rest. Refuse and...well," she trailed off.

The archers nocked arrows and drew bowstrings back to emphasize her point.

Mikaylson took a step forward. "Sir, you can't listen to this...this thing."

"Oh my, I must admit I'd hate to lose the chance to play with this one, she's very pretty," the succubus flicked her gaze to Mikaylson and watched her with quiet intensity. "I wonder if that defiant tone will last the night, what do you think, captain?"

"I think trusting a servant of the Lord of Fire is in itself a fallacy. Your kind has long used deceit and treachery to achieve your ends, this promise of safety is but one more lie you utter without meaning. You and your foul army will die here tonight, monster. Mark my words."

The succubus giggled and rested a palm on her cheek, almost casually. "My name is Kzani, captain, not monster, but don't worry, after we capture you and your men, we'll have a long time to get properly acquainted. Archers, fire at will."

"Raise shields!" Agrius yelled. "Prepare to charge!" Golden light began to seep from the captain's body, creating a veritable army of shadows that danced across the wooden beams and about the ceiling.

Arrows loosed and whistled down from atop the dais. The skeletal horde, on the opposite end of the hall, readied their makeshift weapons; they were standing six rows deep, nearly twenty per line, filling the entire width of the hall.

Mikaylson relayed the order. "There's only one way out, lads, take her foul head!"

The Saintly Order roared and readied shields. Arrows pelted a wall of steel and rebounded against the stone, finding no easy marks.

"Lieutenant!" Agrius bellowed. "Get ready for an opening."

He burst into motion and golden embers that looked like flame incarnate flashed from beneath his boots. With a single step he was halfway across the hall, his form a blur. Suddenly, he was beneath the dais and behind enemy lines.

The nearby necromancers had just enough time to raise large, black clubs above their heads before the captain reared back with his sword. The stone floor cracked when he jumped, thick black veins raced to the nearby wall. He sword swung towards the upraised dais and he screamed. The light within Agrius exploded from his body with a violent ripple; raw power lashed the horde from above and surged through their line, one by one, at an alarming rate, turning the world into a sea of blinding bone-ash. The hall filled with the sound of alien screams.

A bolt, like coruscating lightning, flared from the tip of his sword and shot through the wooden dais from below, shattering the walkway into hundreds of thousands of fragments, before it passed beyond into the roof of the dining hall.