HUMERUS
By Mayavan Thevendra
Part 6 of 8
MORE SOUL THAN HEART
It was a huge chamber, cast in a hellish red glow by burning pyres and lamps. Gigantic, monolithic pillars, cracked and beaten, rose upwards to a ceiling lost in darkness. Debris of all kinds was cast about on the ground - fragments of masonry, broken statues and human remains, piled high against the walls or collected in corners. And amongst the debris, the denizens of the crypt watched. Some little more than animals, others some vicious crossbreed of man and demon. Barry's legs seemed to carry him forward of their own accord, and as he stumbled along the long path between the pillars, the chamber's full horror revealed itself. There were rows of people hung from the walls, violated in ways that Barry could scarcely understand. Huge bonfires of bodies had been set away to the sides, attended to by packs of slavering fiends. In front, enormous stone steps rose up, and almost powerless to resist, Barry began to climb. Creatures that looked like succubi were flaying the last strips of humanity away from those few heroes who had managed to win through this far, and who were now reduced to mere playthings. At last, Barry scaled the final step, and raised his head. There was arrayed in front of him a twisted mockery of a palace throne room; wide rugs woven from human skin and hair were laid across the stone, seeping fluid with every step Barry took upon them. Long drapes of rotting flesh hung from above, stretched and wrung till they brushed the floor. Vast assortments of shields, banners and weapons were fixed to the massive wall above, all broken, all beaten, and stained with their bearers' blood. And in the mighty throne that was the size of a cottage, that was crafted from bones and bronze and skulls, and adorned with unspeakable trophies and ornaments, sat Tenblade.
"SO. YOU HAVE RETURNED AT LAST."
It was a voice as old as time, and as endless as death; it was devoid of any pity, any hint of humanity. Firelight flickered over the demon's body, and Barry saw him, the being that had killed armies, and slain the greatest of champions. He was the size of a giant, but with thin, wiry limbs, his skin slick with sweat and blood. His arms - and Barry found himself morbidly excited to look at them, hung over the sides of his throne and across his body. Barry looked, and noted that he didn't, in fact, have ten arms at all - he had six. His chest, lean and shapely, rose up and down with slow breaths, and like fiery coals, his ruby eyes glowed from the shadows across his face. In the centre of his forehead, there was embedded a shard of crystal that pulsed as though alive, and was lit with some eerie inner light. For some strange reason, it looked horribly, horribly familiar. The entire world seemed to shake as he spoke again.
"LONG HAVE I WAITED. LONG HAVE I DREAMT OF THIS DAY."
"Er..." Said Barry.
"SUCH SWEET IRONY THAT YOU SHOULD COME HERE, YET AGAIN."
"Um. Hang on."
"YET THIS TIME, YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD."
"Uh, right - just a minute."
Tenblade stopped talking, and stared down at Barry, his eyes fierce and sharp. Barry shifted his feet nervously, scraping together enough reckless courage to speak aloud.
"Err.so, I - I've been here before. Um, haven't I?"
Silence fell suddenly. It swamped him, thick and powerful, and Barry realised that the various inhabitants of Tenblade's hall had fallen quiet, and were watching him - they were all staring right at him. It felt as though he was at some sort of hideous wedding reception, and he'd just called the bride a mangy old slapper. Tenblade carried on staring, until it felt to Barry as though the demon's eyes would set his very bones on fire; finally, with a low, grating rumble, Tenblade rose to his feet. The hilts of his six swords could be seen hanging on his hips, gleaming in the dull light. He kept two of his enormous arms crossed over his stomach as he paced slowly forward, and standing over Barry, standing more than twice his height, he looked down and smiled a dreadful smile.
"AS DULL AS YOU ARE CRAVEN, DEAD ONE. INDEED, YOU HAVE WALKED IN THIS HALL BEFORE. YOU HAVE STOOD ON THIS STEP BEFORE. YOU HAVE LAID YOUR EYES UPON ME BEFORE. ONLY IN THE MOST AUSPICIOUS FASHION DID YOU ESCAPE THIS PLACE - I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO DO SO AGAIN. YOUR UN-LIFE.HAS COME TO ITS END."
Just to sidestep for a moment, some two weeks prior to all of this, Barry had been nearly overcome with fright when Morag had shown him a jar full of fruit paste that had been left out in the sun, and had sprouted mould - if there are any true criteria for cowardice, then an intense fear of fungus must surely be one of them. Now compare a glass jar full of blooming mould, to a twelve-foot tall demon with six arms and a thirst for blood that hundreds of years of slaughter haven't even begun to quench.
Moving off at a tangent again, a plain and simple fact about Barry was that he was miserable as well as perpetually frightened, and as far as he was concerned, death was by far preferable to un-death. Should an adequate opportunity to snuff it present itself, then Barry would, providing he could tear himself away from the critical and intricate business of being frightened stupid, run headfirst into danger, in the giddy hope of a quick and painless death. In fact, the more perilous the situation, the better - all the more chance of being knocked off and finding true happiness, as he figured. Now take this acutely strange outlook and, once again, apply to the aforementioned twelve-foot tall demon.
The point is - Barry ought to have been terrified. Or, he ought to have been delighted. Well, truth be told, he ought to have been both. But strangely enough, he wasn't either.
Tenblade stood still, and waited. The ghastly things that lived in his hall edged and crept and slithered closer for a better look at their master's latest prey.
"I - I have been here before," said Barry, "It all looks so.it feels-"
"FAMILIAR. YES, YOU REMEMBER. I KNOW YOUR QUESTIONS - LET ME ANSWER THEM WITH A TALE, FOR TALES ARE AS GREAT A PLEASURE TO ME AS MURDER, AND I HAVE TOO LONG INDULGED ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER. YOU CAME HERE FIRST MANY MOONS AGO, ON A NIGHT CLEAR AND COLD. YOU, AND THOSE WHO FOLLOWED YOU, CUT YOUR WAY HERE, TO THIS PLACE, SLAUGHTERING ALL OF MY CHILDREN WHO STOOD IN YOUR PATH. TERRIBLE WAS MY FURY THAT DAY, AND YOUR ALLIES FELL TO IT QUICKLY, BUT YOU.YOU FOUGHT WITH A STRENGTH GREATER THAN ANY I HAD SEEN OR SLAIN."
"I fought.you?" said Barry, understanding the words, but unable to make any sense of them whatsoever.
"INDEED. AND BUT FOR AN ILL-FATED ERROR, YOU WOULD HAVE EMERGED THE VICTOR. TEN ARMS AND BLADES I HAD WHEN FIRST OUR SWORDS CLASHED - TWO FROM EACH SIDE YOU TOOK, BEFORE I FELL. YOU HAD ME.ON MY KNEES, SKELETON."
Tenblade's monstrous face was creased with hatred as he spoke, his wiry hands balling into knotted fists.
"I WAS TRULY AT YOUR MERCY, AND ONLY YOUR VANITY SAVED ME. SEVERING MY HEAD FROM MY NECK WOULD HAVE BROUGHT ME TO AN END, BUT IT WAS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU - I COULD SENSE IT. YOU WISHED TO SEE THE EXPRESSION UPON MY FACE AS I DIED, SLOWLY, AT YOUR HANDS, AND SO YOU PLUNGED YOUR BLADE, YOUR ACCURSED BLADE.INTO MY BELLY."
Tenblade turned slowly around, his seething scorn tight across his shoulders and back, and took a few heavy steps away from Barry.
"NO PAIN HAD I FELT BEFORE, OR SINCE, THAT SO CONSUMED ME. BUT SWEET IT WAS, IN THE NEWS THAT IT BROUGHT. A LONG TIME HAVE I WALKED THIS EARTH, AND MANY TRICKS AND SECRETS HAVE I LEARNED. THAT WHICH ENTERS MY BODY BECOMES KNOWN TO ME, AND AS YOUR BLADE BIT, I KNEW AT LAST HOW I HAD BEEN BESTED."
"I beat you? Wait a minute.I - I beat you?" said Barry to Tenblade's back, as his mind slowly caught up with the conversation. Tenblade gave the slightest turn of his head, his eye glaring, balefully.
"NO, SKELETON. YOUR BLADE BEAT ME."
Still clasping two arms around his midriff, he turned around.
"SCORES OF WEAPONS THERE ARE THAT HOLD MAGICK WITHIN. AS YOURS LAY INSIDE OF ME, I CAME TO KNOW IT, AND I KNEW IT TO BE ONE OF THE VERY FIRST. A WEAPON OLDER THAN EVEN I - IT'S POWER WAS GREAT INDEED. GREAT ENOUGH TO INSTRUCT THE ART OF SWORDPLAY TO THE MOST WITLESS MIND. GREAT ENOUGH TO TURN A MAN WHO LIVED HIS LIFE AS A COWARD, AND A THIEF, AND A BLUNDERER, INTO A HERO - INTO A LEADER OF MEN. WITHOUT THE BLADE, YOU WERE NOTHING.
MANY TRICKS HAVE I, DEAD ONE, MANY TRICKS WITH WHICH I SNARE MY PREY. MY FLESH CAN TURN TO MY WILL - THOUGH IT PAINED ME, I BADE MY FLESH OBEY ME; I TWISTED MY VERY GUTS AROUND YOUR BLADE, AND HELD IT TIGHT. THE CORRUPTION THAT FLOWS THROUGH MY BLOOD DROWNED YOUR PRECIOUS, WRETCHED SWORD, STRANGLING IT, TILL IT GAVE YOU NOTHING, SAVE IT'S HILT.
POOR, POOR HUMAN, BEREFT OF HIS POWER, AND FACE-TO-FACE WITH THE MIGHTY TENBLADE, WHO KNELT NO LONGER. YOU SHOWED YOUR TRUE COLOURS TO ME IN THAT MOMENT, SKELETON, WHEN YOU GROVELLED FOR YOUR LIFE. I TOLD YOU THEN, AS I WILL TELL YOU NOW - I DO NOT END LIVES."
With a long, sweeping motion, one of the demon's arms swung upwards to his forehead, and fingered the hunk of crystal lodged in it.
"I SAVE THEM."
In a horrifying, stomach-churning moment, Barry remembered. He remembered his last moments of life, here, in the very spot that he stood now. He had knelt, weeping, begging the demon not to kill him, but he knew that something far worse than death awaited him. The crystal sunk into Tenblade's forehead had pulsed harder and faster, beating like an evil heart, drawing him in, drawing him ever closer.
"THE FIRST OF MY TRICKS, AND THE STRONGEST - MY PRETTY SOULS CAUGHT IN CRYSTAL. THIS IS THE FATE OF ALL WHO WOULD CROSS SWORDS WITH TENBLADE AND HIS CHILDREN."
With a raucous clamour, the other creatures arrayed about them began to chant and cheer and holler, hissing and spitting with twisted delight.
"A POWERFUL TRICK, BINDING BLOOD TO CRYSTAL - THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS IN MY VEINS, AND IN THE VEINS OF MY CHILDREN, IS TIED TO THIS." he said, touching the crystal again, "EVERY LIFE WE TAKE COMES TO THIS CRYSTAL, MAKING ME MORE THAN I AM - AN ENDLESS RIVER OF SOULS, OF POWER HAS FLOWED INTO IT SINCE IT CAME TO ME. KNOWLEDGE AND MEMORIES AND AS MANY TALES AS THERE ARE STARS IN THE SKY COME WITH EACH SOUL I STEAL. TO MANY PLACES HAVE I SENT MY YOUNG TO HARVEST THEM, AND MANY HAVE THEY SENT ME, BUT THE SWEETEST ARE THE ONES I REAP WITH MY OWN BLADES."
Barry knew. He could feel them - he could feel the souls, thousands and thousands of souls, wailing and screaming, trapped in a void of endless torment. He remembered how close he had come, when Tenblade had tired of his begging, and had crushed his throat with his hands, and brought him near as the life ebbed from his broken body.
"SWEETEST ABOVE ALL WOULD BE THE SOUL OF THE ONE WHO BESTED ME. SWEET BEYOND ALL IMAGINING."
He remembered - he had felt his soul, his very being stretching, warping, being propelled forwards into that terrible, throbbing crystal - he had felt a fear unhampered by the limits of flesh, a fear that would have consumed him for all time.
"THE BAREST TASTE OF YOU I HAD, THE BAREST GLIMPSE OF THE BANQUET, BEFORE."
Something had happened. His soul had twisted, pulled suddenly from somewhere else, but the crystal wouldn't release him, and so strong was the strain between the two that it felt as though he would snap, and he prayed to everything good that the crystal would let him go, because wherever else he was being drawn to, it had to be better than an existence of endless fear. Wherever it was, he would thank God when he got there, and he would give thanks for it every day.
"YOU WERE STOLEN AWAY FROM ME. I HAD THOUGHT IT WAS SOME ALLY OF YOURS, PRYING YOU AWAY WITH THEIR FEEBLE MAGICKS, BUT THE PULL WAS TOO STRONG - IT WAS THE PULL OF LIFE AND DEATH ITSELF."
He was out of danger, but he was tumbling blindly into something else, and with every instant, memory drained away, fading, until he had nothing left save his name.
"THE PULL OF A NECROMANCER. SUCH FORTUNE, THAT OF ALL THE SOULS THAT ROAM THE ETHER, YOURS, IN THE INSTANT AFTER IT HAD LEFT YOUR BODY, WAS PLUCKED TO BRING UN-LIFE TO A NECROMANCER'S HEAP OF BONES.
SUCH FORTUNE. AND SUCH TWISTED FATE THAT THE SAME NECROMANCER HAS BROUGHT YOU BACK HERE, TO ME. HE AND HIS SERVANTS WILL MAKE FINE GAME FOR MY YOUNG, BUT YOU.YOU ARE MINE."
Barry peered nervously back, aware that Tenblade was getting tired of 'tales' and was in the mood for other of his big passions.
"Er, can't we settle this with.a nice game of poker? Or chess - do you like board games?"
"I KNOW ONLY ONE GAME, SKELETON - AND IT IS A GAME THAT YOU TOO WISH TO PLAY, FOR YOU WERE DRAWN HERE BY ITS LURE. THE SWORD BECKONED YOU HERE, AS I KNEW IT WOULD."
"The sword? It's.it's here?" said Barry, taking an uncharacteristically bold step forward. Something was indeed drawing him on, something that was making him braver, more sure of himself. The sword was calling to him.
"INDEED, IT IS HERE."
"Where? Where is it?"
An awful grin stretched across Tenblade's face; he suddenly threw his head back and laughed, and the sound was utterly monstrous, like the raspy crowing of a thousand vultures.
"THIS IS WHAT I HAVE WAITED FOR. THE BLADE IS YOURS, IF YOU WISH IT. YOU HAVE ONLY TO ASK, SKELETON."
"You're just going to give it to me? Even though it'll give me the power to fight you? Why?"
"BECAUSE IT PLEASES ME. BECAUSE IT WOULD BE NO SPORT TO CUT YOU DOWN AS YOU ARE. BECAUSE I AM TENBLADE, AND ONLY ONE HAS BESTED ME, AND WHETHER BY MAGICK OR SKILL, I CARE NOT, FOR I WILL FIGHT YOU AGAIN, AND I WILL END YOU!"
The demon's cries echoed around the vast hall, and around the inside of Barry's head. With more confidence in his own voice than he had ever heard, Barry took another step forward and said,
"All right. I want the sword. Where is it?"
"IT IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT, DEAD ONE." Said Tenblade, and at last moved aside the two arms that were across his front. There, plunged into his great stomach, was the small and weathered hilt of a sword.
"NOW COME AND RETRIEVE IT, AND WE SHALL FINISH OUR GAME."
By Mayavan Thevendra
Part 6 of 8
MORE SOUL THAN HEART
It was a huge chamber, cast in a hellish red glow by burning pyres and lamps. Gigantic, monolithic pillars, cracked and beaten, rose upwards to a ceiling lost in darkness. Debris of all kinds was cast about on the ground - fragments of masonry, broken statues and human remains, piled high against the walls or collected in corners. And amongst the debris, the denizens of the crypt watched. Some little more than animals, others some vicious crossbreed of man and demon. Barry's legs seemed to carry him forward of their own accord, and as he stumbled along the long path between the pillars, the chamber's full horror revealed itself. There were rows of people hung from the walls, violated in ways that Barry could scarcely understand. Huge bonfires of bodies had been set away to the sides, attended to by packs of slavering fiends. In front, enormous stone steps rose up, and almost powerless to resist, Barry began to climb. Creatures that looked like succubi were flaying the last strips of humanity away from those few heroes who had managed to win through this far, and who were now reduced to mere playthings. At last, Barry scaled the final step, and raised his head. There was arrayed in front of him a twisted mockery of a palace throne room; wide rugs woven from human skin and hair were laid across the stone, seeping fluid with every step Barry took upon them. Long drapes of rotting flesh hung from above, stretched and wrung till they brushed the floor. Vast assortments of shields, banners and weapons were fixed to the massive wall above, all broken, all beaten, and stained with their bearers' blood. And in the mighty throne that was the size of a cottage, that was crafted from bones and bronze and skulls, and adorned with unspeakable trophies and ornaments, sat Tenblade.
"SO. YOU HAVE RETURNED AT LAST."
It was a voice as old as time, and as endless as death; it was devoid of any pity, any hint of humanity. Firelight flickered over the demon's body, and Barry saw him, the being that had killed armies, and slain the greatest of champions. He was the size of a giant, but with thin, wiry limbs, his skin slick with sweat and blood. His arms - and Barry found himself morbidly excited to look at them, hung over the sides of his throne and across his body. Barry looked, and noted that he didn't, in fact, have ten arms at all - he had six. His chest, lean and shapely, rose up and down with slow breaths, and like fiery coals, his ruby eyes glowed from the shadows across his face. In the centre of his forehead, there was embedded a shard of crystal that pulsed as though alive, and was lit with some eerie inner light. For some strange reason, it looked horribly, horribly familiar. The entire world seemed to shake as he spoke again.
"LONG HAVE I WAITED. LONG HAVE I DREAMT OF THIS DAY."
"Er..." Said Barry.
"SUCH SWEET IRONY THAT YOU SHOULD COME HERE, YET AGAIN."
"Um. Hang on."
"YET THIS TIME, YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD."
"Uh, right - just a minute."
Tenblade stopped talking, and stared down at Barry, his eyes fierce and sharp. Barry shifted his feet nervously, scraping together enough reckless courage to speak aloud.
"Err.so, I - I've been here before. Um, haven't I?"
Silence fell suddenly. It swamped him, thick and powerful, and Barry realised that the various inhabitants of Tenblade's hall had fallen quiet, and were watching him - they were all staring right at him. It felt as though he was at some sort of hideous wedding reception, and he'd just called the bride a mangy old slapper. Tenblade carried on staring, until it felt to Barry as though the demon's eyes would set his very bones on fire; finally, with a low, grating rumble, Tenblade rose to his feet. The hilts of his six swords could be seen hanging on his hips, gleaming in the dull light. He kept two of his enormous arms crossed over his stomach as he paced slowly forward, and standing over Barry, standing more than twice his height, he looked down and smiled a dreadful smile.
"AS DULL AS YOU ARE CRAVEN, DEAD ONE. INDEED, YOU HAVE WALKED IN THIS HALL BEFORE. YOU HAVE STOOD ON THIS STEP BEFORE. YOU HAVE LAID YOUR EYES UPON ME BEFORE. ONLY IN THE MOST AUSPICIOUS FASHION DID YOU ESCAPE THIS PLACE - I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO DO SO AGAIN. YOUR UN-LIFE.HAS COME TO ITS END."
Just to sidestep for a moment, some two weeks prior to all of this, Barry had been nearly overcome with fright when Morag had shown him a jar full of fruit paste that had been left out in the sun, and had sprouted mould - if there are any true criteria for cowardice, then an intense fear of fungus must surely be one of them. Now compare a glass jar full of blooming mould, to a twelve-foot tall demon with six arms and a thirst for blood that hundreds of years of slaughter haven't even begun to quench.
Moving off at a tangent again, a plain and simple fact about Barry was that he was miserable as well as perpetually frightened, and as far as he was concerned, death was by far preferable to un-death. Should an adequate opportunity to snuff it present itself, then Barry would, providing he could tear himself away from the critical and intricate business of being frightened stupid, run headfirst into danger, in the giddy hope of a quick and painless death. In fact, the more perilous the situation, the better - all the more chance of being knocked off and finding true happiness, as he figured. Now take this acutely strange outlook and, once again, apply to the aforementioned twelve-foot tall demon.
The point is - Barry ought to have been terrified. Or, he ought to have been delighted. Well, truth be told, he ought to have been both. But strangely enough, he wasn't either.
Tenblade stood still, and waited. The ghastly things that lived in his hall edged and crept and slithered closer for a better look at their master's latest prey.
"I - I have been here before," said Barry, "It all looks so.it feels-"
"FAMILIAR. YES, YOU REMEMBER. I KNOW YOUR QUESTIONS - LET ME ANSWER THEM WITH A TALE, FOR TALES ARE AS GREAT A PLEASURE TO ME AS MURDER, AND I HAVE TOO LONG INDULGED ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER. YOU CAME HERE FIRST MANY MOONS AGO, ON A NIGHT CLEAR AND COLD. YOU, AND THOSE WHO FOLLOWED YOU, CUT YOUR WAY HERE, TO THIS PLACE, SLAUGHTERING ALL OF MY CHILDREN WHO STOOD IN YOUR PATH. TERRIBLE WAS MY FURY THAT DAY, AND YOUR ALLIES FELL TO IT QUICKLY, BUT YOU.YOU FOUGHT WITH A STRENGTH GREATER THAN ANY I HAD SEEN OR SLAIN."
"I fought.you?" said Barry, understanding the words, but unable to make any sense of them whatsoever.
"INDEED. AND BUT FOR AN ILL-FATED ERROR, YOU WOULD HAVE EMERGED THE VICTOR. TEN ARMS AND BLADES I HAD WHEN FIRST OUR SWORDS CLASHED - TWO FROM EACH SIDE YOU TOOK, BEFORE I FELL. YOU HAD ME.ON MY KNEES, SKELETON."
Tenblade's monstrous face was creased with hatred as he spoke, his wiry hands balling into knotted fists.
"I WAS TRULY AT YOUR MERCY, AND ONLY YOUR VANITY SAVED ME. SEVERING MY HEAD FROM MY NECK WOULD HAVE BROUGHT ME TO AN END, BUT IT WAS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU - I COULD SENSE IT. YOU WISHED TO SEE THE EXPRESSION UPON MY FACE AS I DIED, SLOWLY, AT YOUR HANDS, AND SO YOU PLUNGED YOUR BLADE, YOUR ACCURSED BLADE.INTO MY BELLY."
Tenblade turned slowly around, his seething scorn tight across his shoulders and back, and took a few heavy steps away from Barry.
"NO PAIN HAD I FELT BEFORE, OR SINCE, THAT SO CONSUMED ME. BUT SWEET IT WAS, IN THE NEWS THAT IT BROUGHT. A LONG TIME HAVE I WALKED THIS EARTH, AND MANY TRICKS AND SECRETS HAVE I LEARNED. THAT WHICH ENTERS MY BODY BECOMES KNOWN TO ME, AND AS YOUR BLADE BIT, I KNEW AT LAST HOW I HAD BEEN BESTED."
"I beat you? Wait a minute.I - I beat you?" said Barry to Tenblade's back, as his mind slowly caught up with the conversation. Tenblade gave the slightest turn of his head, his eye glaring, balefully.
"NO, SKELETON. YOUR BLADE BEAT ME."
Still clasping two arms around his midriff, he turned around.
"SCORES OF WEAPONS THERE ARE THAT HOLD MAGICK WITHIN. AS YOURS LAY INSIDE OF ME, I CAME TO KNOW IT, AND I KNEW IT TO BE ONE OF THE VERY FIRST. A WEAPON OLDER THAN EVEN I - IT'S POWER WAS GREAT INDEED. GREAT ENOUGH TO INSTRUCT THE ART OF SWORDPLAY TO THE MOST WITLESS MIND. GREAT ENOUGH TO TURN A MAN WHO LIVED HIS LIFE AS A COWARD, AND A THIEF, AND A BLUNDERER, INTO A HERO - INTO A LEADER OF MEN. WITHOUT THE BLADE, YOU WERE NOTHING.
MANY TRICKS HAVE I, DEAD ONE, MANY TRICKS WITH WHICH I SNARE MY PREY. MY FLESH CAN TURN TO MY WILL - THOUGH IT PAINED ME, I BADE MY FLESH OBEY ME; I TWISTED MY VERY GUTS AROUND YOUR BLADE, AND HELD IT TIGHT. THE CORRUPTION THAT FLOWS THROUGH MY BLOOD DROWNED YOUR PRECIOUS, WRETCHED SWORD, STRANGLING IT, TILL IT GAVE YOU NOTHING, SAVE IT'S HILT.
POOR, POOR HUMAN, BEREFT OF HIS POWER, AND FACE-TO-FACE WITH THE MIGHTY TENBLADE, WHO KNELT NO LONGER. YOU SHOWED YOUR TRUE COLOURS TO ME IN THAT MOMENT, SKELETON, WHEN YOU GROVELLED FOR YOUR LIFE. I TOLD YOU THEN, AS I WILL TELL YOU NOW - I DO NOT END LIVES."
With a long, sweeping motion, one of the demon's arms swung upwards to his forehead, and fingered the hunk of crystal lodged in it.
"I SAVE THEM."
In a horrifying, stomach-churning moment, Barry remembered. He remembered his last moments of life, here, in the very spot that he stood now. He had knelt, weeping, begging the demon not to kill him, but he knew that something far worse than death awaited him. The crystal sunk into Tenblade's forehead had pulsed harder and faster, beating like an evil heart, drawing him in, drawing him ever closer.
"THE FIRST OF MY TRICKS, AND THE STRONGEST - MY PRETTY SOULS CAUGHT IN CRYSTAL. THIS IS THE FATE OF ALL WHO WOULD CROSS SWORDS WITH TENBLADE AND HIS CHILDREN."
With a raucous clamour, the other creatures arrayed about them began to chant and cheer and holler, hissing and spitting with twisted delight.
"A POWERFUL TRICK, BINDING BLOOD TO CRYSTAL - THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS IN MY VEINS, AND IN THE VEINS OF MY CHILDREN, IS TIED TO THIS." he said, touching the crystal again, "EVERY LIFE WE TAKE COMES TO THIS CRYSTAL, MAKING ME MORE THAN I AM - AN ENDLESS RIVER OF SOULS, OF POWER HAS FLOWED INTO IT SINCE IT CAME TO ME. KNOWLEDGE AND MEMORIES AND AS MANY TALES AS THERE ARE STARS IN THE SKY COME WITH EACH SOUL I STEAL. TO MANY PLACES HAVE I SENT MY YOUNG TO HARVEST THEM, AND MANY HAVE THEY SENT ME, BUT THE SWEETEST ARE THE ONES I REAP WITH MY OWN BLADES."
Barry knew. He could feel them - he could feel the souls, thousands and thousands of souls, wailing and screaming, trapped in a void of endless torment. He remembered how close he had come, when Tenblade had tired of his begging, and had crushed his throat with his hands, and brought him near as the life ebbed from his broken body.
"SWEETEST ABOVE ALL WOULD BE THE SOUL OF THE ONE WHO BESTED ME. SWEET BEYOND ALL IMAGINING."
He remembered - he had felt his soul, his very being stretching, warping, being propelled forwards into that terrible, throbbing crystal - he had felt a fear unhampered by the limits of flesh, a fear that would have consumed him for all time.
"THE BAREST TASTE OF YOU I HAD, THE BAREST GLIMPSE OF THE BANQUET, BEFORE."
Something had happened. His soul had twisted, pulled suddenly from somewhere else, but the crystal wouldn't release him, and so strong was the strain between the two that it felt as though he would snap, and he prayed to everything good that the crystal would let him go, because wherever else he was being drawn to, it had to be better than an existence of endless fear. Wherever it was, he would thank God when he got there, and he would give thanks for it every day.
"YOU WERE STOLEN AWAY FROM ME. I HAD THOUGHT IT WAS SOME ALLY OF YOURS, PRYING YOU AWAY WITH THEIR FEEBLE MAGICKS, BUT THE PULL WAS TOO STRONG - IT WAS THE PULL OF LIFE AND DEATH ITSELF."
He was out of danger, but he was tumbling blindly into something else, and with every instant, memory drained away, fading, until he had nothing left save his name.
"THE PULL OF A NECROMANCER. SUCH FORTUNE, THAT OF ALL THE SOULS THAT ROAM THE ETHER, YOURS, IN THE INSTANT AFTER IT HAD LEFT YOUR BODY, WAS PLUCKED TO BRING UN-LIFE TO A NECROMANCER'S HEAP OF BONES.
SUCH FORTUNE. AND SUCH TWISTED FATE THAT THE SAME NECROMANCER HAS BROUGHT YOU BACK HERE, TO ME. HE AND HIS SERVANTS WILL MAKE FINE GAME FOR MY YOUNG, BUT YOU.YOU ARE MINE."
Barry peered nervously back, aware that Tenblade was getting tired of 'tales' and was in the mood for other of his big passions.
"Er, can't we settle this with.a nice game of poker? Or chess - do you like board games?"
"I KNOW ONLY ONE GAME, SKELETON - AND IT IS A GAME THAT YOU TOO WISH TO PLAY, FOR YOU WERE DRAWN HERE BY ITS LURE. THE SWORD BECKONED YOU HERE, AS I KNEW IT WOULD."
"The sword? It's.it's here?" said Barry, taking an uncharacteristically bold step forward. Something was indeed drawing him on, something that was making him braver, more sure of himself. The sword was calling to him.
"INDEED, IT IS HERE."
"Where? Where is it?"
An awful grin stretched across Tenblade's face; he suddenly threw his head back and laughed, and the sound was utterly monstrous, like the raspy crowing of a thousand vultures.
"THIS IS WHAT I HAVE WAITED FOR. THE BLADE IS YOURS, IF YOU WISH IT. YOU HAVE ONLY TO ASK, SKELETON."
"You're just going to give it to me? Even though it'll give me the power to fight you? Why?"
"BECAUSE IT PLEASES ME. BECAUSE IT WOULD BE NO SPORT TO CUT YOU DOWN AS YOU ARE. BECAUSE I AM TENBLADE, AND ONLY ONE HAS BESTED ME, AND WHETHER BY MAGICK OR SKILL, I CARE NOT, FOR I WILL FIGHT YOU AGAIN, AND I WILL END YOU!"
The demon's cries echoed around the vast hall, and around the inside of Barry's head. With more confidence in his own voice than he had ever heard, Barry took another step forward and said,
"All right. I want the sword. Where is it?"
"IT IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT, DEAD ONE." Said Tenblade, and at last moved aside the two arms that were across his front. There, plunged into his great stomach, was the small and weathered hilt of a sword.
"NOW COME AND RETRIEVE IT, AND WE SHALL FINISH OUR GAME."