Chapter two: Of Blood and Ice
Kill them, kill them all.
The voice growled in his ears. A faint, seemingly ancient memory clawed at the edges of his mind. He had known that voice, not as he knew it now, but before all of this. Conveniently, he thought, the memory is vague and almost non-existent. Faces, names, feelings, sounds—None of it he could recall in his mind. It was like his memories were sketches, and someone had purposely taken an eraser to the most important details.
It is not yours to question, only to serve. Now kill.
It was as if the voice knew. No, of course it would. The master always knew. It's voice was always there to chastise him when his mind wandered off the task at hand.
"Steiner, you better be dead, and I mean dead for good if you're sitting around like that." A rasping voice called out from behind.
Steiner von Pestis shifted in the saddle of his Acherus Deathcharger and glared at the newcomer. Beneath him, his wraith-like warhorse snorted, sensing it's master's anger. "If you speak to me like that again, I'll make damn sure you're the dead one. Then maybe the worms could finally finish their meal, Bael."
Bael was a half-rotten and worm-eaten human corpse in a suit of black-iron armor. He didn't share the same fortune Steiner did, who was as perfectly preserved as the day he had 'died'. It was, perhaps, the reason Bael disliked him. No, Steiner thought, hate is a much more accurate word.
"In case you haven't noticed, they're probably full by now." Bael said dismissively. He guided his horse to a stop beside Steiner's. "But it's not my flesh the worms want today, and you're supposed to be feeding them." The corpse rasped, almost managing to sound angry. "But it looks like you're busy sightseeing. Why you are even part of the Ebon Blade, I'll never know. You're more fit to be sword fodder than a Knight."
Steiner's glowing blue eyes shifted from Bael's ugly visage to a gaggle of mindless ghouls in the background. Lacking any free will, or intelligence for that matter, they were controlled by the iron will of the master. The ghouls were dragging a wagon filled with glistening red meat towards the Ebon Blade base camp. With a mixture of cold humor and revulsion he regarded the wagon's contents. His eyes widened just a fraction when he noticed a human skull half buried beneath bloody sinew.
"Food for the fodder." Bael remarked, as if reading Steiner's expression. "You should know that by now, or did you lose your brain with your soul?"
The Death Knight threw Bael another withering glare, but held his tongue. While the rotting corpse wasn't Steiner's direct superior, he did report to a higher power. And besides, conflict within the Ebon Blade was forbidden. Which didn't mean it never happened, but no one wanted to displease the master.
"My apologies, Bael, I was…formulating a plan of attack on the town." Steiner replied, gesturing a mailed hand towards the stone wall of the town in the distance. It's name was New Avalon, or so he'd been told.
"Bullocks," Bael began, fixing the other death knight with a hard stare. "you were thinking of where best to hide while the master's other subjects did your work for you."
Steiner was about to reply when Bael kicked his steed into a trot. "Best get to work, before he grows impatient—" For a moment, Bael's expression softened, and his voice dropped to a deathly whisper. "It does you no good to dwell on what may have been your past. You're Ebon Blade now, death knight. We have no past, only the present. Put it out of your mind. Others never could, and they paid for it," The corpse paused and glanced at the ghouls who were trundling away into the distance. "so heed my warning. Your place is to serve, nothing more."
With that, Bael was gone. For a full minute, Steiner sat there, staring at his rival's back as he disappeared into the distance. Not once had Bael ever treated him with anything other than contempt. But for that short moment, Bael had spoken to him as a comrade, as someone who had traveled the same road.
Were Bael's words not clear enough, death knight? Kill.
This time, the words boomed in Steiner's mind, causing him to double over in the saddle. He groaned, and waited, hunched over until the pain passed.
"Yes master, your will be done." The death knight intoned out loud.
His master wanted blood, and blood he would get. Steiner kicked his horse into action, the undead steed screeching and starting forward. The farmland surrounding New Avalon had been burned, and fresh corpses littered the countryside. In the near distance, the sound of steel upon steel filled the air—As well as the screams of the dying.
As he passed by a small pond, he took a moment to regard his visage. He had the strong, proud face of a warrior, with cheekbones carved from rock and the nose of a predator-hawk. His eyes, once green, now had an eerie blue glow. Raven black hair framed his face and fell down past his shoulders. Thin lips were held in an almost permanent sneer, and his long pointed ears spiked above his head. His entire face, indeed, every patch of skin not encased by black-iron armor was covered in a thin layer of ice. Tiny icicles hung from his ears. Whenever he spoke or changed expression, it was always accompanied by the tiny crackling of breaking ice, like ice cubes dropped into a warm glass.
Were it not for his terrifying and grim countenance, he would have been considered a fairly attractive high elf. But as he was, he exuded an aura of terror and freezing cold. So cold, in fact, that grass frosted and crumbled beneath his feet, and water froze at his touch. As terrifying as that may have been, it was absolutely pitiful compared to the aura of his dread master.
An arrow glanced off his left shoulder, taking the ruby-eye out of the goat-skull crafted into the metal. Shaking off his reverie for the second time of the day, he fixed his eyes on an archer hiding in the bushes to his left. With a snarl of anger, Steiner grabbed the reigns of his steed and wheeled him around to chase down the ambusher. The man, a farmer by the looks of him, moaned in despair and turned to run. The bow clattered to the ground as Steiner caught him. In one motion, he pulled his massive rune-axe from his back and cut the farmer in two from the waste up. A healthy coating of blood and viscera covered the front of his steed, and the axe in his hand hissed as it consumed the blood on it's blade.
Yes! Good! His master's voice applauded in his head. But that's only the beginning, there is much more blood to be spilt.
Just up ahead, a small battle was being held at the foot of the walls guarding New Avalon. Ghouls and patchwork abominations fought against the town militia and the Scarlet Crusaders. A handful of death knights in initiate robes were acting as officers, each commanding a handful of ghouls or abominations. Their counterparts were similarly commanding militia and foot soldiers. The battle looked very much in favor of the death knights and their minions. Up until one of the abominations disintegrated in a ball of golden flames. It's killer stepped through the holy fire to stand before his enemies. A paladin, tall, broad, hammer in hand, and a white tabard trimmed with scarlet. Without a word, he screamed and threw himself at the nearest death knight initiate. Strengthened by the presence of such a holy warrior, the militia and foot soldiers trudged into the fray with renewed fury. Death knights and undead minions alike were being cut down with ease.
Steiner eyed the paladin, watching with the appraising eyes of a warrior as the crusader crushed a flailing death knight initiate to the ground. Steel fragments, splinters of bone, and pulped gore showered the area with the force of the impact. Yet blood refused to stain the holy warrior's body or weapon. Indeed, he seemed to be encased in some kind of divine shield. Here, the death knight mused, was a foe worth fighting. Indeed, the rest of these creatures seemed beneath him. But this crusader was different. The master would be pleased at his death.
Steiner howled as he kicked his steed into the fray. The sound carried over the sound of battle, causing man and minion to pause for the briefest of moments. As his steed impacted with the tangle of bodies, Steiner threw himself off the horse and into the press of combatants. The aura of cold surrounding the death knight caused the humans to shrink away from him, and he laid into anything within reach with his rune-axe Grimulfr. A man, eyes wide in desperation charged Steiner with a claymore held above his head. With seemingly casual ease, he sidestepped the overhead swing, and split the man's spine apart with a flick of the wrist. At that same moment another man, a crusader foot soldier, clambered over a body and thrust his sword at Steiner's abdomen. Before the blow connected, a coil of pure unholy magic lanced from the death knight's outstretched hand, engulfing his attacker's face. Flesh melted from bone, and bone turned to dust as the soldier shrieked and died. It was then a sound reached Steiner's ears. A cold, brutal sound filled with depthless cruelty and sadism. He realized it was laughter, his laughter.
Bodies were piling up all around the death knight as both forces ground themselves down. Neither side would flee under the unflinching eyes of their champions, and the slaughter was terrible. The ground was muddy and soggy, where only a short time before it was dirt. Combatants were sloshing around in crimson mud and puddles of gory entrails. Steiner's face had become a red mask, as bloody and gobbets of flesh had frozen to his skin. Another man fell to Grimulfr, his plump belly opening to a broad slash. It was then that the death knight came face to face with the paladin. Despite having killed so many creatures, the paladin was still completely spotless.
"Abomination!" The paladin hissed. The other combatants had stopped fighting, and were instead forming a loose ring around Steiner and his opponent. He knew without a doubt that the victor's side would win the battle. Single combat of this sort either won or lost battles.
"I believe you killed all of those. You've made quite a few flesh shapers angry, human. Perhaps you can supply your own flesh as repayment." Steiner retorted as he sized the paladin up. Compared to the crusader, he was smaller, and far less muscular. Which meant he probably had speed on his side.
"Jonathan the Redeemer, Paladin of the Scarlet Crusade."
"Steiner von Pestis, Hammer of the Ebon Blade." The title meant nothing, but the death knight felt like he had to match his opponent's introduction with something of his own. It sounded good, come to think of it.
And with that, the time for words ended. Paladin and death knight circled each other in a field full of blood and severed limbs, looking for any kind of opening. As they circled, the paladin lost his footing as he slipped on the spilt organs of a dead soldier. Steiner took his chance and lunged at the paladin, his rune-axe carving a bloody arc through the air. The blow never connected, because the paladin had been bluffing. Surging upwards from his knees, his massive war hammer connected with Steiner's chest in a dazzling flash of golden light, and a sound like thunder. Black iron screamed and cracked under the force of the blow, and Steiner was thrown into the crowd, amidst his own side. Around him, the foot soldiers cheered and the death knight initiates groaned.
Numerous hands dragged him to his feet, and another pair handed him Grimulfr. Lights were flashing in his eyes, and the world seemed unsteady. As he made his way back into the ring, a few of the scarlet crusaders gasped. A blow like that should have killed Steiner, and surely would have, were he anything less than he was. He wasn't unscathed however, and knew full well another blow of that magnitude would kill him for sure. Shards of his broken armor were falling to the ground as the chest plate came apart. Setting down his rune-axe, Steiner quickly undid what was left of the armor, and threw it to the ground. Bare-chested, now, he took up his weapon once more. Fortunately, the paladin was an honorable man, and waited while Steiner readied himself a second time. The death knight wouldn't have taken that chance.
For a second time, man and elf circled each other. This time, Steiner smiled to himself. He would let the paladin attack this time. As he lowered his axe a mere fraction, the paladin took the opening. A lightning fast horizontal strike hurtled towards Steiner, but he wasn't there to greet the hammer. He had spun around the outside of the paladin's guard as the crusader stepped forward to make his attack. With a howl, he sank his axe into his opponent's back. Grimulfr gave a tortured scream as the paladin's divine shield fought against the blow. What should have been a lethal strike only cut a wide gash across the paladin's lower back. But it was something, and now they were about even.
There was no circling anymore. Only attacks, counter-attacks, and the shriek of tortured metal as both opponents locked weapons. Most of it was too fast for the spectators to follow, as weapons flashed like lightning. Blackened blood oozed from minor cuts all over Steiner's body, and froze to his pale near-grey skin. Horrifying bruises, like rotten black and yellow fruit marked his torso where the paladin's hammer had found its mark. Likewise, his counterpart was battered and bloodied.
The paladin was taking ragged breaths, and even Steiner was feeling drained. This fight had to end quickly, or he was certain he would lose. By the look in the paladin's eyes, he could tell the man was thinking the same thing. As both men closed in on each other for the final confrontation, Steiner pointed to a nearby corpse and hissed. "Come here!" he cried, and the corpse opened it's eyes, and sprang to it's feet. Men around him gasped in horror, and the death knight initiates cheered. The once-man, at an unspoken command pounced on the paladin. With ease, the paladin threw it to the ground and crushed it with his hammer, but it was simply meant to be a distraction. Steiner closed the distance he threw an open hand in the direction of his opponent.
A cloud of frost surrounded the paladin, and turned patches of exposed skin black with frostbite. It was called frost fever, a disease of a magical sort that deadened skin and sent spikes of icy pain through its victim's body. Screaming in pain, the paladin sluggishly began to respond to his attacker. But numbed by the icy chill, his frostbitten fingers fumbled with the hammer. Intoning a word of pestilence, the death knight struck at the paladin with a wild horizontal slash. It ended up as only a glancing blow, opening a gash in the crusader's shoulder, but it was enough. Blood turned to acid in the paladin's veins, searing arteries and burning like fire in his heart. This was the blood plague, another disease in the death knight's unholy arsenal, which turned blood corrosive and ate away at veins and organs.
Deathlike silence followed as the Scarlet Crusade Paladin sank to his knees in crippling pain. The hammer fell from nerveless fingers, and he looked up at Steiner. Only hate and loathing burned there. For some reason, Steiner hesitated. It was as if he was looking at himself through the paladin's eyes. Abomination! They spat. Creature of filth! Fallen hero!
The death knight reeled under the paladin's gaze, and he felt something break inside of him. It wasn't something he could describe, or understand, but he felt it break nonetheless.
You cower beneath the stare of a defeated enemy? The master boomed suddenly, breaking Steiner from his daze. Kill him, and end this pathetic battle! There is still much left to be done. Send his body to me.
"Yes, master." He rasped, suddenly feeling empty. Grimulfr hissed in his hands, the runes inscribed on the blade burning with unholy energy. It was hungry, and it wanted the paladin's blood. His opponent was still staring at him in defiance, though his body had no strength left to resist. Hefting his axe, he raised it above his head. "Well fought, paladin." Was all he could manage to say, and to his surprise, regretful sadness drenched his voice.
The axe descended, crimson filled the air, and a body slumped to the ground. Then the air was filled with cheers, and screams of despair. Some of the militia dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, while the rest of the New Avalon soldiers formed a small shield wall before Steiner.
Weary for the first time he could properly remember, he turned his back on the battle, and walked through the crowd of death knights and minions.
"Take the prisoners, kill the ones who resist, and bring the paladin's body back. The master wants his remains." He called out as he walked away.
An hour later...
The only sound of battle that remained was in the distance, near the gate to New Avalon where the rest of the Ebon Blade forces fought for entry into the town. But the battle behind Steiner had ended, very quickly, in fact. Steiner had seen nothing of it, though. He had walked away, and kept his back to the fighting until it was over. Now prisoners were being shackled, and weapons were being looted from the corpses. He glanced to his left, to watch two ghouls carrying the bloody corpse of the paladin off towards the base camp. Another hero turned minion, he guessed sadly.
A row of prisoners were being herded behind the paladin's corpse, their escorts banging their fists against their chests in salute. Steiner nodded slightly in acknowledgement as he watched hopeless faces pass him by. Some were crying, some were singing sad songs, and some still had that look of defiance written upon their faces. All except one.
It was a man, an old man, really. Thinning, short gray hair and an old face made even older by exhaustion. He was wearing the robes of a priest, and he was staring hard at Steiner. The death knight watched the man as he passed by. The man was scrutinizing him, and Steiner felt an urge to strike him for it. But then something clicked in his mind. He knew the man! How, he hadn't the faintest clue, but he was absolutely sure he had met the priest before. The name eluded him too, but the face was familiar.
"What is happening to me?" He mumbled to himself. The priest must've seen the look on his face, because the cleric's eyes widened, and a look of recognition lit upon his face. But the look passed quickly, replaced by one of disappointment and sadness. Just as he was about to approach the priest, one of the escorting death knight initiates punched the man in the back of the head. "Don't look at the death knight, human! He'll have your eyes! Isn't that right?" The escort grinned at him.
Steiner nodded dumbly, and silently watched the man disappear into the herd of prisoners. Looking back at the battlefield, he felt a very real, and very unfamiliar emotion: Guilt.