Ancient Horror

[WP] You hear the doors to your ancient bastion being broken down as a group of heroes rush into your chamber to slay your hideous form. As you see their blades you can only laugh as they free you from your mortal coil , subsequently releasing the horrors you have kept at bay since the dawn of time.

*****

“Today’s the day,” Brom said. He looked at his men, an army of six thousand loomed behind him.

Half were swordsmen, a quarter mages, and another quarter gunsmen with their cannons and rifles. The guns and cannons were a new development, expensive to make and terribly inaccurate, but they rivaled the mages whose spells took time and energy to cast. The only cost to using the blackpowder was money and the King had made sure that it wouldn’t be a factor in this siege.

Brom didn’t need to make any speeches today so he walked toward Lord Sian’s castle, his army followed. It took them weeks to get to this point, having lost half the army to get there.

“Acceptable casualties,” the King had reported back when he’d heard the news. “Go forth.”

And so Brom did.

Lord Sian’s keep was poorly protected in its immediate vicinity, no one would have paid the mortal price of making it this far. The keep had been protected by Lord Sian’s undead, Brom’s men would have to slay their own fallen when they lost anyone. They’d lost more men yet to that trauma.

“Brom,” Hagel said.

“Aye?” Brom murmured.

“How many are you taking into the castle?” Hagel asked. Hagel was the commander of the mages, Brom’s second in charge. Legally, he was also his brother in law.

“No more than a hundred, swordsmen and mages only.” Brom said.

“Take a few gunsmen with you,” Hagel said.

“I refuse to take them in there,” Brom said. “I can acknowledge their strength, but blackpowder has no right in this final battle.”

They were walking well ahead of the army, Brom’s instinct had been sharpened over his years leading countless expeditions for the King. Born to two of the country’s finest mages, Brom had steered clear away from the arcane, opting instead for the sword. True to his parents’ blood, he’d had a keen understanding of his surroundings and of people. He learned to become one with nature, to respect it. His swordsmanship rivaled the strength of a lightning strike in both its power and speed.

“Brother,” Hagel said. “I beg of you to take a few of them with you.”

“The gunsmen will stand guard outside the castle,” Brom said. “There will be no more talk of this, Hagel.”

Hagel nodded and fell back, out of step with Brom. He talked to his mages and then to a few of the gunsmen captains. When they reached the castle, still unguarded, Brom took his men. A combination of spells and blackpowder blasted the doors of the castle open and they charged into an empty castle, aged with stonerock walls covered in vines and moss.

Only Brom sensed the danger ahead of them as they cleared each room one by one. There was one room left, Lord Sian’s throne room, and Brom stood in front of it. His soldiers again gave him a wide berth.

They felt the chill run up the floor and throughout their bodies, the fog descending upon them, hiding them in Lord Sian’s mists.

“What are you waiting for, children?” the voice, Lord Sian’s, asked.

“Hagel,” Brom said.

Hagel nodded and ordered his mages to blast the doors down. The mists were harmless, the last of a dying demon’s powers. A simple illusion.

“Oil first,” Hagel said. “Then fire and lightning.”

“We rush in afterwards, through the smoke.” Brom added. “Cover your mouths and be on your guard.”

The men charged through the smoke as planned and Lord Sian’s thinly body hung on his throne, one elbow propping up the near skeletal form. His skin was melting off by pieces, the cataracts in his eyes taking most of his vision.

“My, my.” Lord Sian said. Despite his sickly body, his voice could be heard by every soldier in the room. “What an army you’ve brought, Sir Brom.”

Behind his throne was dark glass, a dark red, almost black in color. It ran up from the floor all the way to the ceiling and it let very little sunshine in, the torches that lined the walls providing most of the light.

“Hagel,” Brom said. He took a step forward, his broadsword in hand. A long, powerful sword curved at the tip like a scythe.

Hagel nodded again. He looked at his mages who began to chant the words, some of the spells took a comically long time to cast. It required them to recite passages from their scripture or prayers to their gods (and for some, demons).

In a fraction of those long seconds, Brom charged at the Lord and the Lord did nothing. A smile crept along his face and Brom stopped, sensing that something wasn’t quite right.

“You’ve stopped?” Lord Sian asked, he then coughed. Blood splattered the floor in front of them, Brom moved back to avoid it. The blood itself boiled and evaporated away, leaving spittles of cracked flooring.

Brom couldn’t explain it, but he knew then and he took several steps backwards. His men stood, frozen in place. His mages were still reciting their spells, one had even finished and had aimed his spell toward Lord Sian who didn’t take any action to avoid it.

It was a simple ice spell, taking the shape of a swordfish. It moved through the air, its sword piercing the Lord straight in the heart. The dark glass shattered behind him as he took his last breath, again the sick smile lining his face.

Brom grabbed Hagel on his way out, “Full retreat!” he yelled.

From the shattered glass, a rain of sound. Explosive sounds that made their ears ring, pain shot through anyone who hadn’t been fast or smart enough to run away. Hagel was one of the only ones who got a good glimpse at the terror, at the newfound army that walked through Lord Sian’s glass. Wearing matching uniforms of different shades of green and equipped with metallic rifles, the men walked fearlessly. They ripped through anyone who failed to evacuate the premises. He saw them cheer, embracing each other as they killed fifty men in nearly three seconds.

Brom’s instincts told him to run as far away as he physically could and he trusted his instincts. He poured mana into his legs, running faster than he’d ever run carrying Hagel on his back who’d been shouting at him to let him go.

“I can’t,” Brom said. “Or we’ll die.”

“Who are they?” Hagel asked.

Brom continued to run, running past his men. He told them to follow him, that they were returning back to Astrar, back to the King for new orders.

“More demons.” Brom said, offering a guess.

It sounded believable to Hagel and they ran away as the castle went up in flames behind them.

*****

THE END