Ruination

The Questor moved on alone ............

The Questor continued on to the East ... Tiger Clan roamed through the jungle just out of sight and Eagles flew overhead. They traveled for two days over hostile territory that was bereft of life except for the oppressive jungle and the incessant insects.

On the third day the Darkness had pretty much blocked the sun. What light there was seemed sickly and incapable of separating shadow from reality. On more than one occasion there were screams in the distance that sent monks and Tigers scurrying off, but no one was found.

The air was stagnant, the rotting vegetation filling the air, the water in these parts foul and undrinkable. They discovered this when a young monk bent to drink his fill before he could be warned. Within seconds he was thrashing on the ground, his eyes blank and his mind full of the horrors being transmitted almost constantly by The Ruination now.

The Questor knew they had to be close, but there would be more hurdles, more battles to fight before He would face the Monster.

That evening, the Darkness was so thick that to move in the jungle was useless, even for the cat-eyed Tigers. The Eagles found high ground and gathered together around a small fire that the group in the jungle could see faintly through the trees. The Tigers, monks and The Questor built another small fire and they established watches, then fell asleep into a fitful, moaning nightmare that all shared.

In the dream, The Ruination had won the war. The valley of the Questors was blighted, the people of the villages twisted and gnarled, reduced to cannibalism. On the heights the Palace lay blasted and ruined, no life at all in it, the walls black with fire and the ground unable to sustain even the weeds that normally appeared in rocks. A shadow sat in the Throne Room, a being like a Man, hooded, with blazing eyes and a voice that caused the ground to shake when It spoke.

If one dared climb close enough in the dream, they saw that the Monster had taken the visage of The Questor. Twisted and tortured though it was, the blue eyes flared out of a face rocked with agony and hatred. Many of them cried out in their sleep, their darkest fears were that the Questor would return to His service of The Ruination.

The Questor lurched awake, His hands flying to the Sword and Bowie. Sweat poured from His body, and He shook like a little girl in a thunderstorm. Feeling Himself, He breathed a sigh of relief. It was a dream, nothing but a dream.

All hell broke loose, screams shattered the air, heavy sounds of monks and Tigers being destroyed, their screams heart rending. The light was so poor that the Questor could virtually not see 20 feet ahead. On His right a huge foot came down, crushing the monk who had been caring for His armor. Right after that a hammer the size of a small horse slammed into the ground on the other side of Him, crushing a Tiger as it turned and raced for the jungle shelter.

The Questor yelled, "To Me, To Me", and the remaining men and Beasts ran to His side. Lightning filled the sky and a bolt set a nearby tree on fire. The enemy became visible. A giant troll, a full 40 feet high, armed to the teeth and intent on destroying every one of them had snuck into the camp in the darkness and slain fully half of the group gathered there. His hammer swung to and fro, ripping the heads off of monks, his massive feet squashing anything in its way, and the look in its eyes as usual with those of The Ruination dead and empty. It served one purpose, to kill .. And its task was to kill the Questor.

The hammer swung fast and deadly, but the Questor was faster. He ran towards the troll, His sword slashing and stabbing, leaving huge wounds on the legs and ankles of the creature. Back came the hammer, just catching His shoulder but knocking Him completely across the clearing and freeing the Sword from His grip in the process.

The Tigers roared and attacked, they fought in a pack like wolves. Dashing in raking the legs of the giant, biting its tendons, tearing huge chunks of flesh from it. The monster seemed not to notice, it was intent on one thing, the Questor.

Down came its foot, a collective cry of horror coming from the Questor's allies as the foot smashed right where He had been. The Questor had seen it coming, rolled into the bushes and was racing for the sword. He grabbed the sword and rolled in a somersault coming to His feet facing the troll coming back at Him.

The world paused for a second. The massive troll stomping toward the Questor. The Questor standing calmly, sword lifted, waiting. Then as the troll reached Him the Questor's eyes flashed with a light that filled the clearing and illuminated the next feat. A tree stump was between The two antagonists. The Questor set off at a dead run and launching Himself off the stump, buried the sword under the jaw of the giant. The blade, hungry for blood completed the job, it twisted severing the arteries and then planted itself deep in the spine of the troll.

The troll's hand came up and swept the Questor to the ground, then staggered forward 2 steps. Its eyes filled with understanding for the first time, and then it crashed straight down face first burying the Questor under it's corpse.

It took some time but the monks and Tigers dragged the body from off the Questor. He was unconscious but when water was splashed on His face He snapped to and raised the Bowie as if to continue the fight. The men laughed and the Tigers roared. High above the Eagles wondered at the noise, and continued their prayers for the life of their prince Raj. News had come that He was still alive when He reached the Palace. Now they could only hope those healers would save Him. His days as a warrior were certainly ended they agreed, but He was strong and could survive even with only one foot.

The men and Tigers returned to a fitful sleep. It was still a few hours before what little light would be available would show. A monk dragged the sword from the neck of the troll and cleaned it, sitting it next to the Questor.

The Questor put His back to a tree and watched the rest of the night......

The Ruination shook with rage; It has just been blasted from the mind of one of Its tools by the attack of the Tiger Prince. The Questor had been mesmerized, but that damn Bowie and Sword were in His hands in a flash. The Ruination ran Its hand over its face, the scar was there, long, red, bitterly painful. The Questor had lost the Sword in that last battle but the Bowie cut just as deep and the purity of the blade left The Ruination's flesh tattered and not able to regenerate properly. No matter what or whose face it wore, the scar was there, a constant reminder of the traitor.

The Tiger Clan was an even bigger shock. It had thought that they were aloof from the affairs of Men and Monsters, content to reign in the depths of the jungle. They were solitary Warriors for the most part; The Questor must have promised them something special to bring them together as a united front.

The Ruination had not really had time to explore the situation in the valley as It made Its return. It was unaware that the valley had been in peace and prosperous since the Questor had risen to power. It knew nothing at all of the slave girl fireinnereyes and her special place in the dynamics of the valley. She had become much beloved and was considered by the denizens of the valley to be queen.

Neither did He know that the Questor had struck a bargain with the Tiger Clan to protect the Dale, a place of great power and the secret passage to the Altar of the Tigers, the belly of the Mountain and the Palace itself. The Ruination wanted the Dale for Itself. The power of that place subverted would allow it to open the gates of hell and bring through atrocities and monsters, which roamed Its dark kingdom. If It could unleash them on the world, soon they would spread and multiply, the poison of their very beings twisting the lives of all the people of the Mountain and beyond.

It turned Its mind back to the task at hand. The Questor must be stopped. If He arrived at the Dark Gate too soon He may be able to close it before the Ruination Itself snuck through.

It called a bat. Bats were everywhere in the dark kingdom, and their loyalty was to the One who would bring constant Darkness to the world for them to roam at will. The Ruination spoke with the bat and sent it scurrying out into the night, it had far to fly before the sun started to rise again.

Through the dark night, the bat sped on silent wings, and finally landed on one of the platforms of the Palace of the Questors. Most people were asleep at that time, but in the Questor's quarters the candles burned bright and a form flashed back and forth. Watching through the eyes of the bat, The Ruination directed it under the eaves of the rampart and looked through the window.

It was a woman, a beautiful slave girl, clad in silks, and dancing an exotic dance with sword and cane in hand. The Ruination watched as the girl spun and lifted and dropped and stabbed and slashed with the weapons with a grace It had never seen. It thought to Itself, a woman like that, a warrior like that ... I could make her an Empress. It laughed an evil laugh, of course an Empress that would satisfy Its dark and vile hungers, but an Empress nonetheless.

The bat hung on the eave and The Ruination watched as the girl danced till she dropped. Her body in a heap on the floor, sobs racking her. This was the moment It should strike. When the girl was weak with sorrow, perhaps her Mate had been slain in a battle, or her Master had gone to war never to return.

The girl rose from her silken sprawl, laying the weapons aside for the moment and stripped for a bath. The Ruination was staggered by her beauty, It had never seen a woman so primal, so much like ... then It saw the brand on her hip. The bat quivered on the eaves with the violence of the emotion that ripped through The Ruination. She was The Questor's, that was His brand.

This information only made The Ruination hungrier for the girl's flesh. It must have her. To take something like this from the Questor would bring Him to His knees. The bat waited and watched, the girl finally finishing her bath and climbing into the furs on the platform, a solitary candle burning for her Master's safe return. She wept then, her mind filled with the memories of His strong arms around her. The hunger in His eyes when He looked at her, the passion in His touch when He used her, the joy in His being when she threw herself to the ground in front of Him and begged for Him to use her. She lived for the Questor, there could never be another.

Finally, her eyes drifted closed and with soft sobs she wandered into sleep. Her dreams were fitful, full of fear for the Questor, then pleasure as she dreamt of loving days at the Dale. Her breathing evened, her body relaxed and she fell into a deep sleep.

The bat crept close ..............................

The Ruination watched the girl sobbing and finally falling asleep, her arms wrapped around The Questor's pillow, holding it tight to her and falling into a light slumber where her dreams were full of Him and the danger He might be in.

She rolled over and over in the furs, The Ruination using the bat to take in every inch of her luscious body. It was mesmerized by her beauty, not in the way that you or I might be, but in a totally evil manner. Its head was full of thoughts of tortures and mind and soul warping things it could do to the girl, keeping her beauty intact but making her a cesspool of sick desire and hatred inside. It lived for challenges like this.

Finally the girl dropped into a deep sleep, hardly moving at all. The Ruination sent the bat softly gliding through the air to the platform of furs. Up close she was even more beautiful than He had dreamt. Her skin was flawless, her lips full and enticing, the curves of her face soft and inviting, her hair a glorious black mane spilling around her face in a perfect frame.

Oh to subvert that, to ruin it, to turn her into chattel ... disgraced, demolished, debased ... unworthy of her Master. Its mind reeled at the thought.

Summoning strange powers The Ruination pushed part of Its essence through the mind link into the bat, It breathed in her face ... a foul, reeking miasma redolent of corpses and long lingering molds. The breath filled her nostrils and raced through her system into her brain and body. Her dreams became dark and horrible, blood and death, war and suffering surrounded her and she saw The Questor carried back to the palace on a funeral bed. She sobbed, great heaving moans coming from her at the vision and The Ruination continued to feed the poison into her, a little more and she would despair. Then It would take over her mind and begin the warping of her, a fitting punishment for the Questor.

At that moment, The Ruination noticed that the Questor had come upon the Lama in the graveyard. It watched the girl for a second and then turned Its attention to the traitor that had almost slain It. It was sure that it had a hold on the girl and she could wait for a few minutes while Its creature slew the Questor.

The Ruination had underestimated Them both. As the Questor was being drawn in by The Ruination's manipulation of the Lama's powers, the girl was running through a darkness toward a voice that always seemed to call to her ... it was Master. Something was wrong. She was needed.

The Tiger Clan Warriors slew the Lama, blasting The Ruination from its mind. As it screamed in agony and rage, the girl found the way out of the trap The Ruination had been building around her.

In a flash she was on her feet, her weapons drawn and at the ready. Looking around she saw nothing out of the ordinary until the bat rose from the furs and swept toward her. A sardonic smile cut her face, action, she'd been hoping that something would happen to draw her into the fight; she was a bloodthirsty little wench after all.

The sword flashed once, twice, three times. The bat lay in multiple pieces on the ground, she bent to look at it and when her eyes fixed on its dying eyes she gasped and pulled back. Those eyes had shown her vistas of a hell so foul, a mind so depraved and rotten that the sight would have destroyed most people's minds.

She fell to her knees and prayed for her Master's safe return. The monsters He fought were deadlier than anything she could possibly dream of.

She suddenly heard a clamoring in the Main Hall, racing down the stairs her sword in hand; she saw two of the Eagles carrying a stretcher into the temple. Wondering who it was, she got as close as possible and saw a shock of reddish blonde hair. She then noticed that the body was missing a foot and there was a great deal of blood dripping from the stretcher.

The monks took the Man into the temple and quietly closed the doors, listening at them she heard chanting, smelt incense, and watched as the healers raced in and out. Someone important she guessed and sighed. I'd better get back to sleep; there will be a full accounting tomorrow.

The Ruination seethed ...............

The army of the Questor continued East after the loss of the mighty warrior Raj, and the appearance of the massive Troll that had slain many in their sleep. The battle between the Questor and the Troll fresh on their minds, there were many sideways glances and much murmuring in the ranks. Would it be all this nightmarish? Would all their fighting be against a single enemy that wandered in from nowhere, slew them at its will and then withdrew while the tool of its control died? Was there no enemy to fight except the fear?

Also in the minds of many were the dreams that had come before the attack, the horror at the idea that the Questor would return to The Ruination and let it through into His own body to rule and destroy all that they knew. He had been a good ruler, much beloved by His men and the residents of the valley, but now that they knew whence He had come originally they feared Him and He spent most of His time alone.

The Tigers could sense the reality; they were the Guardians of the holiest spot in the valley. Only one Man was allowed to safely pass them into the Dale, and His mate. The Questor was that Man; the Tigers had been guarding His predecessors for centuries and knew that the Man was strong and true to His honor. Their greatest fear was that He would be slain, leaving no one to lead. That was the only way that the Ruination would be able to enter the Dale and subvert it to His purposes. While it was certainly the gate to Heaven on Earth ... The Ruination would transform and debase it to open the doors of Hell. The world as we know it would be changed forever and He would have a stronghold that was impregnable.

The Questor's mind was also busy, bits and snatches of His days as The Ruination's General were coming back to Him. While they caused His bile to rise, and His hackles to stand on end He had to know what was coming. A face kept appearing in His mind, white flowing hair, handsome, tall, strong, someone that He had called brother and fought with side by side. Someone who's evil deeds had matched and perhaps surpassed His own.

"Well," the Questor shook His head, "I suppose I'll find out soon enough." The day was darker than any previously, and there were no signs of life except for the vegetation of the jungle. Nothing moved but the army, and even though they were all skilled and trained in combat they sounded like a mob moving through the preternatural forest.

One of the Eagles flew low; He landed before the Questor and took a knee. "My Lord Questor, there is news from the Palace that is both disturbing and happy."

The Questor turned to look at the Eagle, His eyes shifting even as the Eagle watched from the burning hazel of His normal gaze to the penetrating blue that filled His entire eye. The Eagle shivered at the sight, He knew that the Questor was all nerves and eager for news.

"My liege, The Ruination sent a spy to see what was going on in the Palace. Apparently it saw your girl fireinnereyes and tried by sorcery to gain control of her mind."

"WHAT?" roared the Questor? He raised His sword slightly His knuckles white on the grip. "What happened Eagle?"

"She slew it", the Eagle replied with a slight grin on His face. "She chopped it into tiny bits and fed it to the dogs."

"Is she okay? Was she harmed? How is she?" the Questor asked.

The Eagle smiled ... "she's fine, a little shaken, but that girl is a warrior born and bred." He waited for the Questor's smile in response.

"Is there more news?" asked the Questor?

"Yes Lord Questor, Raj has managed to live. The blood loss was extreme, and He has been very weak, but He will survive. Unfortunately, He may never be able to change again. He's stuck in His body as a Man and missing a foot." The Eagle looked up, a tear in His eye, He is a fighter Sir, if any can come back, Raj will be the Man."

The Questor looked away, His eyes also misting. He had known Raj a long time had been through secret ceremonies with the Prince and had even been pierced with one of His feathers, a ceremony that allowed Him to temporarily join the Eagles in flight. He smiled as He remembered taking fireinnereyes on the flight. She had been terrified when He pushed her from the cliff, but it had almost broken her heart to return to human form.

The Questor turned to the Eagle again, "thank you My friend. The news is both disturbing and happy. Go tell your brethren of your Prince's condition, I know they have been talking of little else."

They all turned back to the march, deeper and deeper into this nightmarish wood. Eyes carefully watched for surprise attack.

Suddenly one of the monks dropped to the ground, an arrow buried in His left eye. The Questor raced forward to his side, the quill was solid black with a tinge of blood red on the tip, the arrow a cruel ebony shaft that would be invisible in this light. The Questor had seen that design before, a chill went over His body and He looked up... the edge of the jungle appeared ahead, a dim light shining from it like a corpse glow in the haunted swamps.