Hytorax

[Lief Erikson]

A Dark Beginning

"Sire!" shouted one of Thiacrese's troops from the gate. "The outer wall is breeched! Enemy soldiers are pouring in like a flood! We must flee, now!"

"No!" Thiacrese snarled in response. "We shall fight to the last man! We are surrounded by that barrows of kings! I shall die one of them, not live a coward!"

Salacor, Thiacrese's advisor, nodded quickly at his decision. "Yes, we must fight. Those vagabonds want the Hytorax, you know. The greatest magical item of your kingdom, and they want it! Theives, cowards and murderers, the lot of them!"

"They shall find nothing here but death," Thiacrese said, his voice harsh. He drew his blade as the gate quivered at the enemy battering ram. "And if need be, I shall use the Hytorax to defeat them."

"No, you cannot do that!" Salacor cried in panic. "You have not yet the skill to tap into its powers effectively!"

"The spirits of the kings still live," Thiacrese growled, clapping a hand on his councilor's shoulder and pushing him away. "If need be, I shall call on them to defend us. The Hytorax has the power to defend us, the kings of the past have bound themselves to its power. These fools cannot fight the dead."

The gate burst open and the screaming mob poured in.

"Traitors!" Thiacrese screamed as he launched himself into them. His men pushed the rabble back, but there were too many.

"DIE!" He chopped the head off of the nearest one and kicked the body aside. Turning to the next, he clove the shield that barred his way in two and continued with a second blow that pierced his opponent's helmet and dropped him dead on the floor.

"DIE, TRAITORS!"

"The last king of old," Salacor hissed to himself as he drew his own blade- a weapon forged in the dark chambers of the Necromancer. "He is like his fathers. Strong, yet sooo weak."

Two of Thiacrese's soldiers fell to enemy spears, and a third was taken out by an arrow from an archer Salacor hadn't noticed. The archer lined his next arrow up at Salacor's neck at let loose.

Salacor's sword shattered the arrow as he blocked it in flight. Quickly, he turned back to the king, just in time to see a sword catch him in the head and throw him to the ground.

Salacor ran to the man's side. "Sire! Are you all right?"

Thiacrese seized him by the throat and pulled himself up, ignoring the blood that poured down over his face from the wound on his scalp.

"Let me use the Hytorax for you," Salacor begged Thiacrese. "Your troops are dead! We cannot survive!"

"I shall kill them myself!" Thiacrese raved.

"You cannot, sire! You cannot kill so many alone!"

His words finally got through to Thiacrese, and he turned back toward Salacor. "Very well, then."

A ruthless smile crossed his lips, as he seized his councilor's arm and ran with him up the stairs of the keep, leaving the last of his soldiers to die without him.

The cries of the mob were heard below, as they pursued.

Salacor slammed the door shut and bolted it as they reached the topmost tower. Thiacrese ran to the back of the room, whipped the covering off of the emerald gem, the Hytorax, and placed his hand on it.




The battle ended. The war ended, and a quiet that had not been known before came upon the land. The tumult was over- for good. No more children cried, and no more mothers or wives wept. No soldiers chose whose allegiance they should belong to in that land any more.

This was because they were all dead, lying quietly in the ground.

An emerald green light entered the barrows beneath the earth, and darkness fell upon that land like a heavy, silent shroud.