Jon and his companions venture deep beneath the earth in the vain hope of saving the De Felice heir, yet as they march forth into the darkness they shall be welcomed by the call of war drums and the chittering horde.
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In the end, they did not leave for many hours. First, they had to return to the De Felice estate and make preparations. Once they returned, Jon swiftly donned his armour while De Felice sent several servants out to gather the rat catchers. Jon had no idea what that meant but trusted that the old man knew what he was doing. His mind was more occupied by the fact that Ingfried had declared her intention to accompany Jon. He had tried to protest, but she would hear nothing of it.
"I am coming with you." She had declared.
"You do not know what all you will be facing, but you know that it is magical in part, and you will need my abilities." Jon was going to protest, but she held up her hand to stop him.
"Besides," she said with a smile, "Ulric would never forgive me if I were to flee from danger." Jon said no more. He did not have the heart to argue with her, and, in truth, he found the thought of her being with him comforting when they faced…whatever it was they were going to face.
After she had also changed, donning trousers, a heavy coat, and boots, they made their way down to the hall where De Felice was already present. The older man had donned a suit of plate armour; much of the breastplate and visor depicted senses worked in Niello which Jon guessed were scenes of the goddess Myrmidia's life as a mortal. He also bore a shield, though it was smaller than the one Jon carried. Additionally, De Felice had three pistols holstered at his waist, angled so that he could draw them all with his right hand. He also carried extra powder and shot for them. Servants were preparing additional supplies for them in packs and were laying out lamps and oil. It was not long after this that the rat catchers began to appear, and they were unlike any rat catchers that Jon had ever seen. Fortunately, De Felice prevented him from making a fool of himself by explaining that "rat catcher" was what people called those who hunted Skaven for a living. There were several groups of them, though it seemed that many of them had worked together in the past.
The first group consisted of four men and a Dwarf. The men were clearly related, all squat and heavy-set, and were named Quirino, Rinaldo, Giordano and Narciso Verardi. They all wore gambesons and kettle helmets, with swords, clubs and hatchets thrust into their belts. They also had two massive dogs on chain leashes. They were mastiffs of some sort; their faces and muzzles were covered with scars, and one was missing an eye. The larger of the two, a male who was missing part of one of its cheeks, came up to growl at Ghost. But, as he had with the hounds back at Winterfell, Ghost merely stared at the dog. They locked eyes with each other for a moment, and then the dog backed down. If the men and their dogs were gruesome, the Dwarf, Suran Hammerhand, looked downright demented.
He was the oldest Dwarf Jon had ever seen and boasted a number of scars. He was bald but had a beard which hung down nearly to his knees. His beard, however, looked wrong. All the Dwarfs he had seen had beards that had been well-groomed and clearly a source of pride. The Dwarf here, however, seemed not to care about his beard. It was completely white, but it was dirty and looked to be thin and ragged. He also did not seem to be entirely right in the head. He would frequently talk to himself and occasionally twitch and look about as if he could not remember where he was.
The second group was made up entirely of men. Their leader, who identified himself as Sir Gillot la Gajant, was wearing a suit of armour, leaving only his face exposed. It was a fleshy face, and the veins under his nose indicated a heavy drinker. The sigil on his shield was a boar, and he looked like one. Indeed, Jon was sure that it was only his armour which kept his belly from bulging out. However, he looked as if he was as strong as a boar as well, with broad arms and thick shoulders, and Jon did not doubt that he could do a great deal of damage with the mace which hung from his belt. He was accompanied by his squire and nephew, Henry la Gajant, who looked much like his uncle, only younger and thinner. With them were also three men clad in brightly coloured gambesons with la Gajant's sigil painted on them.
There was a group of a dozen Dwarfs wearing chainmail and armed with axes, shields and crossbows.
There were two men, brothers named Edgardo and Flavio Ottaviano, in studded leather armour and who both fought with rapiers and long daggers. There were others whose presence surprised Jon.
Princess Belladonna, perhaps in an attempt for unity in the face of a common threat, sent a score of halberdiers and ten crossbowmen. They also brought Jon a letter from Margaery in which she told him that she would pray to the Seven, Shallya, the Lady of the Lake and Myrmidia for his safety. She had also sent him one of her handkerchiefs with her hope that it would bring him luck.
There were also between twenty or thirty men who had the look of sellswords. They were all well-armed and armoured. Looking at them, Jon did not think that he had seen such a group of cut-throats since…the last time the Watch had received a new batch of recruits. But, of all of them, two stood out.
The first was a young man dressed in the armour of knights from the temple who looked a great deal like a younger version of the priest. He was armed with a spear and sword and was introduced as Sir Rodrigo D'Alfonsi of the Knights of the Blazing Sun and was indeed the son of the priest and had been sent to represent the Great Temple and to atone for failing to protect the child in the first place. The second man was a giant individual standing at or near seven feet tall. He rippled with muscles, and his blond hair was in numerous braids. He wore chainmail and had a two-handed axe on his back and two smaller axes hanging from his belt. He looked so like the raiders that he had fought before that Jon found his hand going to his sword. De Felice assured that, while the man, named Olaf Isaksen, was indeed a Norscan, he was not a foe. He explained that while the Norscans were usually foes, some came south as merchants and sellswords, and Olaf was one of the best-known sellswords in the city and the lands around it. At last, De Felice decided all who were coming had come, and they set out.
They made their way through the now dark and mostly deserted streets back to the temple. The few people who were still out and about hastened to get out of their way when they saw the heavily armed party moving through the streets. When they, at last, reached the temple, they made their way towards where the Skaven had escaped. Once there, the Dwarfs set to work with crowbars and swiftly pried up the stone covering the hole. Once this was done, Giordano and Narciso, lanterns in hand, lowered themselves into the tunnel below and swiftly swept the area. Convinced that there was no immediate danger, they motioned to their kin to hand the dogs down to them. Rinaldo offered to do the same for Ghost. The direwolf, who seemed to understand, simply walked to the edge and jumped down. Then One by one, the whole party went down the tunnel till all were there. Lanterns were handed lit and handed out. As this was being done, Rinaldo took out what appeared to be a clump of Skaven fur and held it out for Ghost and the dogs to sniff.
De Felice swiftly organized the party into an order of march. In front were Jon, Quirino, Rinaldo, Giordano and Narciso, along with Ghost, the dogs with Suran in front of all of them. After them were the Ottaviano brothers. Ingfried, De Felice, Sir Rodrigo D'Alfonsi and the soldiers sent by Princess Belladonna. After them were Olaf, Sir Gillot la Gajant and his party, along with the sellswords. Finally, the party of Dwarfs brought up the rear, though later on, when the tunnel was wide enough to permit it, some of them would move to the flanks. Thus arranged, the journey began.
Ghost and the hounds quickly got the scent and set off, Suran right behind, humming to himself. At times the Dwarf would stop and stare at seemingly nothing; sometimes, he would squat down and look at, or sniff something. Once Jon would have sworn that the Dwarf actually tasted something. Nevertheless, he seemed to know what he was doing. It was not long before the tunnel began to branch, and even the hounds did not always seem to know which way to go. However, Suran was always quick to make a choice which was always the right one, as the hounds always swiftly picked up the scent again after Suran made his choice. Despite his oddities, Jon began to find the Dwarf's humming to be strangely comforting, and he needed the comfort.
He had been in caves but never tunnels like these and found that he did not care for them at all.
The darkness pressed in from all sides, and he could see nothing beyond the light cast from his lantern. He could see the light from the other lanterns, but aside from the ones nearest him, the rest of the party were little more than vague dark shapes half illuminated by their lanterns. Indeed, one of the reasons that he found the humming of Suran, who did not carry a lantern, was that it helped reassure Jon that the Dwarf was still there. The only other sounds were those of the party walking along. Their footsteps seemed to be as loud as thunder and seemed to echo the length of the tunnel. Other than that, there did not appear to be any sound. Despite this, Jon could not shake the feeling that they were being watched, though whenever he looked about, he could not see anything. He kept straining his ears for the sound of Skaven attacking. The walls of the tunnels made sounds echo seemingly from all directions. This left Jon half-convinced that there were sounds coming from all directions, which wore heavily on his nerves. At times he also found himself fighting the feeling the tunnel walls were pressing in on them, and now and then, he found himself having to look up to reassure himself that the ceiling was not about to collapse on him and that the walls were not closing in on him. At other times the tunnel would suddenly widen so that the walls disappeared from the light of the lanterns. This should have comforted him, but it did not; instead, it gave him a feeling of being exposed, like walking across an open field which provided no cover from observation or attack and then the tunnel would inexplicably tighten again, and the fears of being crushed would return. It began to feel as if they had been in the tunnels for hours, though he knew it could not possibly have been that long.
Though he tried to keep it from his mind the story of the King-Beyond-the-Wall Gende and his people who had become lost in the tunnels under the Wall and never found their way out. He looked about the tunnels and imagined being in them for the rest of his life, even after the lanterns inevitably ran out of fuel and went dark and shuddered. He looked back once at where the highest lantern, Olaf's, bobbed. He could only imagine how hard it must be for the large Norscan as, for the most part, the ceiling was so low that the bigger man had to stoop in order to fit.
At last, after what seemed like forever, De Felice called for them to halt.
Jon sat down and placed his back against the tunnel wall; somehow, that made things not so bad. As he did so, Suran came up and, without asking, flopped down beside him. Still humming to himself, the Dwarf took off his helmet and began munching on a piece of hard and fouling-smelling piece of cheese. After loudly eating several bites, the Dwarf turned to Jon, an idiotic grin on his face.
"Fun walk, eh?" For a moment, Jon thought that he was making a jest, but after a moment, he realized that he was not.
"If you say so." He said, hoping that that would be the end of the conversation, but the Dwarf did not seem to get the hint or did and did not care. Instead, he chuckled and slapped Jon on the knee.
"Oh, you manlings. You can never appreciate tunnels, even shoddy Raki-made ones. You always want to be wandering about above ground." Suran shook his head and gave Jon a pitying look.
"All that air, no way it can be good for you." He gave a low, slightly demented laugh.
"Probably why you all grow too tall and can't grow proper beards, and so many of you are wazzocks." Jon was unsure what to say to that, mostly as he had no idea what a wazzock was, though he guessed it was not complimentary. Fortunately, it did not appear that Suran was expecting a reply. He merely rose and slapped Jon on the back hard.
"Not to worry, manling old Hammerhand will lead you. In three hundred years, I have never been lost once." With that, he made his way back to Ghost and the dogs, humming tunelessly to himself again. Jon watched him go for a moment and then looked away, shaking his head.
Shortly afterwards, they set off again. Jon was not sure, but he thought that they were heading downward. The air seemed to be growing thicker and warmer as well, making breathing more difficult. Jon was attempting to ignore these increasing discomforts when things began to change.
Suran's form suddenly came to a halt, as did the shapes of Ghost and the hounds. Jon and the Verardi also came to a halt, and the sounds from behind him told him that the rest of the expedition was also coming to a halt, though one of the brothers did not stop in time and ran into one of the Verardi. This inspired a brief bout of cursing before Suran hissed them to silence. As silence descended, Jon became aware that the sense that they were being watched had intensified. He wanted to look about with his lantern in an effort to find the source of this feeling, but he restrained himself. The watcher or watchers may not know that Jon and the others knew that they were being watched, though he rather doubted that. Also, he doubted that it would do any good as whoever it was likely was too far out to be seen by the light of the lantern.
Though no words were said, it was clear that the others also knew that they were being watched. Jon could feel the tension in the air emanating from them. It fed Jon's own sense of unease, and the feeling of being watched only grew as they walked. His nerves, taught as they were, caused him to jump when the silence was shattered by the blaring of a brazen horn. After the preceding silence, the horn seemed almost deafening. It seemed to come from all directions and bounce off of the floor, ceiling and walls. The horn was joined by others, or it was simply being blown again; Jon was not sure. Giving up all pretence, he spun about, lantern high, but they were in one of the open stretches and whoever, or whatever, was blowing the horns remained out of sight. In the end, the barking of the dogs was their only warning. The beasts suddenly began raising a cacophony of barks and howls, which was quickly joined by the slapping of what sounded like hundreds of feet on the stone and the clanging of arms and armour. As the sounds drew closer, Jon now saw red eyes reflected in the light of his lantern, which he swiftly moved to his left hand and drew his sword.
Skaven lunged from the darkness in a flurry of blades, teeth and claws. They stabbed, bit and clawed at him, but they failed to penetrate his armour. Jon at first tried to stab at individual Skaven, but he soon abandoned this approach. There were simply so many that he did not have to aim; merely thrust and slash, and he would hit something. It was a battle unlike any that he had been before, and he hated it. If the Seven Hells did indeed exist, then it must be something like this place. Aside from the lanterns, the battle was waged in total darkness. Though Jon could hear the Skaven, he could not see them until they suddenly lunged into the light, and as he was holding his lantern in his shield hand, that further limited his visibility; so when he did them, they were usually right on top of him. Frantically waving lanterns gave him glimpses of the others in the same situation as himself, though Jon was too far away to link up with them. The dogs howled and snarled, men and Skaven screamed, De Felice fired his pistol, the sound almost deafening in the tunnel, and the smell of black powder mingled with blood and the other smells.
Jon heard thumps and cries several times, but he could not see what was happening until it happened to him. Several Skaven dropped from the ceiling and landed on Jon's back and shoulder, one of them lashing out and knocking Jon's lantern from his hand, plunging him into even greater darkness. Sensing his distraction, Skaven rushed forward, more of them jumping on him, adding their weight to the ones already on him. In the struggle, Jon lost his footing and fell to the ground, his sword flying from his hand. Skaven pinned him while others tried to work blades through gaps in his armour.
GHOST! Jon thought without thinking.
A roar suddenly sounded, and several shapes crashed into the Skaven. It was Ghost, and with him was Suran, a massive pickaxe in his hands. The Dwarf laughed wildly as he swung about wildly, striking any Skaven who failed to jump out of the way in time. Those who managed to do so, however, were not safe. They were swift and agile; Ghost was more so. As the Skaven were routed, Jon was able to push himself up to a sitting position. Suddenly a shape was in front of him, and a strong hand grabbed Jon and hauled him to his feet. As he righted himself, he found his sword pushed into his hand.
"Come manling," Suran said, wild mirth in his voice; "Can't kill any Raki lying down like that!" With that, he was gone.
A flicker of light caught Jon's attention; it was his lantern. Miraculously, it had not gone out when he had dropped it. He swiftly reached down and snatched it up. As he righted himself, he found himself facing a charging Skaven. As it closed on Jon, mouth open to bite, it jolted as an all-too-familiar crossbow bolt burst out of its mouth, having been shot in through the back of its head. It took several more steps, and then it fell to the ground. Jon looked around, but he could not see who his saviour was. Then more Skaven attacked him, and he had no time to wonder about his mysterious benefactor. Despite the ferocity of the attack, it ended as suddenly as it began. The Skaven simply broke and fled back into the darkness. At first several of the lights began to follow the fleeing shadows, but they were called back by De Felice and several of the others. Once they had returned, the whole party, including Jon, moved closer together. As they did so, Jon took the opportunity provided by the illumination of all the lanterns being together to assess the state of the expedition.
Remarkably they had taken very few losses. Three of the sellswords were dead, as was one of Princess Belladonna's halberdiers. There were numerous others sporting wounds of varying seriousness, but it did not look as if any of them were too injured to fight, a fact for which Jon and the others found great relief as if they had been, then they would either have had to split their party, or all go back, as simply leaving them was out of the question. Just then, the remaining halberdiers and crossbowmen were calling for a man named Miguel. It soon became apparent that one of them was missing. Lights flashed about as everyone looked for the missing man. Just then, a piercing scream echoed through the tunnel. Jon could not tell from where it came; it seemed to be coming from everywhere as it bounced off of the walls and floors. As the man, Jon presumed that it was the missing Miguel, continued to scream, it was clear that he was in great pain. The screams were joined by something else, something even more hateful.
The sounds of Skaven laughing.
Jon did not believe he had ever heard anything so full of cruelty and spite, not even when they had fought the Norscans at sea. Like the man's screams, their laughter seemed to come from all directions and different distances, making it seem as if they were all around the expedition. As the man's screams continued, several of his comrades looked as if they would run off in an effort to rescue him. A number of those around them reached out and seized them. The would-be rescuers struggled, but the others held them fast.
"Fools." One of the Dwarfs, Jon did not know his name, muttered near him.
"What is going on?" Jon asked. He could guess, but he was trying to focus on something other than poor Miguel. The Dwarf made a sound of disgust.
"What do you think, manling? Those Raki bastards know that we care about one another and are taking advantage of that. They are torturing him, hoping that we will chase them into the tunnels, where we will become lost in the tunnels and vulnerable to ambushes." Jon felt his gut twist with revulsion.
Not even the Wildings were so cruel. As the screaming continued, Jon found himself wishing the man dead. He felt shame at that thought, though he knew that it was for the best. Indeed, these had to be the most depraved of creatures, and he found himself hating the Skaven more intensely than he had ever loathed anything. Mercifully, the screaming finally came to an end, though the laughter continued for some time afterwards.
The silence which followed was, in its way, as horrible as the laughter and screaming had been. It was clear that many in the party were unnerved and wished to turn back, but it was also clear that De Felice would hear none of it, and the majority were still willing to follow him, and none wished to go back to a smaller group. So they continued on, though in much tighter formation this time. Once again, Jon did not know how long they marched, nor even what direction they were going as the tunnel twisted and turned and sometimes, they came to where the tunnel branched and took new ones. Everyone was on edge, ready and waiting for another attack, but it did not come. Though Jon and the others could hear them, and the dogs frequently growled at the shadows, the Skaven did not appear again, though that did not mean that they did not make themselves known. They continued on for what seemed like forever, pausing several times when Jon and the others caught what fitful sleep they could.
Sometime after the attack, the dogs began to growl, and Jon swore; he could sense Ghost become tense as all the rest of the party did the same.
"Raki." One of the Dwarfs spat.
"Are they coming back?" One of the men asked, fear evident in his voice. Near to Jon, Suran laughed bitterly.
"No, manling. I reckon all that they have simply left us a present." Jon did not know what the Dwarf meant by that, but he found out all too soon.
Their first warning was an increased growling from the dogs, followed by them moving ahead to sniff at something. Their owners moved up to them, illuminating what they had found. Jon wished that they had not. Lying in the middle of the tunnel floor was something which Jon first took to be a pile of butchered meat but which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be the remains of the missing man. His limbs, eyes, manhood, and most of his skin were missing, and his torso sported numerous cuts and burns. Jon did not want to even consider how much pain the man had endured before the end. As men made sounds of disgust and several were noisily sick, Suran laughed bitterly again.
"Figured." As Jon looked in his direction, the Dwarf elaborated.
"Nasty little Raki trick. Since we did not fall for the first trick, they left the body where they knew we would find it." He did not elaborate, but he did not have to.
They had to press on, and, as there was nothing they could do for him, they were forced to simply step over the remains and leave him behind. From the mutterings behind him, Jon knew that the man's friends were far from happy with the decision, though they accepted the necessity of it. They continued on for some time when abruptly, the situation changed again. Jon did not realize what was going on at first, but he then realized that it was gradually growing brighter. The walls were tinged with a greenish light that provided some illumination. Illumination grew steadily as they continued on. Sounds also began to reach them. They were too faint to distinguish at first, but as they continued on, the sounds could be discerned as Skaven's voices and the sound of tools on stone. The air was also growing warmer as if they were heading towards a large fire or a furnace.
As the heat and noise increased, De Felice called a halt. After a brief conversation which Jon could not hear, four of the Dwarfs moved forward into the dark. Jon found it surprising how silently and swiftly they could move despite their size and bulk. The remainder of the expedition waited for some time; until, at last, the four Dwarfs returned and, at a motion from them, the rest moved forward. After rounding a corner, Jon saw a large doorway, from which the light and sound were emanating. Half a dozen Skaven bodies were lying about the opening, clearly the work of Dwarven scouts. For a moment, the party gathered itself, and then they rushed through the opening to what lay beyond.
They found themselves in a vast cavern, of which Jon could barely see the sides, and he could see them. Unlike the tunnels which they had traversed, the cavern was lit by seemingly hundreds of great lanterns which gave off sickly green light which allowed all within to be seen. Jon partially wished that they had not. Skaven; wherever Jon looked, he saw Skaven. There had to be hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands, many of which, as far as Jon could see, were the smaller, skinnier ones. They were swarming over the stones, stalagmites and stalactites. With crude tools, they were chipping and hacking at the stones, shaping them into dwellings. It looked as if the Skaven were excavating more permanent shelters to replace the numerous tents and hovels which were scattered about. For the first few moments, the Skaven did not appear to be aware of their presence, and then a chittering cry was raised, and all eyes turned towards them. For a moment, they simply stared at the intruders as if they could not quite believe Jon and the others were there, and then the spell was broken. With a deafening chorus of chittering cries, the Skaven swarmed towards them. As flight was impossible, the party prepared to defend themselves.
The Skaven came at them in the dozens, or hundreds or even thousands. Jon could not be sure, and there was no time to count them. In addition to the ones dropping down from the works and swarming out from the shelters, more came up seemingly from the ground; though after a moment, Jon realized that there were several large fissures in the floor, and it was from these that the Skaven were coming. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the expedition had an unexpected advantage. While the Skaven swarmed towards the intruders in a manner which reminded Jon of bees attacking something disturbing their hive, they failed to make the best use of their superior numbers. They did not wait to organize themselves or even come together, rushing at Jon and the others. This meant that those closer closed with and engaged the attackers before the others arrived. Thus, while the attacks were constant, many were easily beaten back. Indeed, on several occasions, the Skaven were actually outnumbered, and a pattern soon emerged.
A mob of Skaven would swarm the attackers and, after suffering enough casualties, would break and run. Their flight would take them back the way they had come and into the Skaven who were running towards the expedition. The panic from those fleeing often spread to the next wave of attackers, and they would begin to panic as well if their leaders or at least Jon assumed that the larger and better-equipped Skaven were leaders, could not bully them back into resuming their charge then they too would turn and run. Whenever they could, the expedition, who tried to move forward during the lulls between charges, targeted those leaders with what ranged weapons they possessed. Their efforts were hindered by the fact that the Skaven leaders, unlike human leaders, seemed disinclined to move from the rear ranks of the Skaven. Nevertheless, several were brought down, though likely more by luck than skill, though Jon was not surprised to see several of these were from crossbow bolts. When they saw their leaders fall, those Skaven near to them quickly turned and fled.
Another factor was Ingfried. Unlike in the temple, Ingfried did not have to hold back, and she took full advantage of this. She sent blasts of wind and bolts of lightning hurling into the masses of Skaven, and the damage that she did was terrible. It was not just her magic itself that was so dangerous; it was how she used it. One particular bolt struck a stalactite and brought a chunk of it down to crush more than twenty of the Skaven while a blast of wind sent a number tumbling into one of the crevasses to fall screaming into the dark.
"We doing it! We're breaking them!" Henry la Gajant cried in exultation.
"Keep fighting, boy! It is not done yet!" But, unfortunately, he was soon proved to be correct.
Emerging from deeper within the settlement, more Skaven emerged, and it was immediately apparent that these posed a greater threat. While their armour and weapons were crudely made and poorly cared for, at least they had them. They also moved in something vaguely resembling formations. As they advanced, the Skaven, which had fled from the expedition, were rounded up by more of the armoured Skaven. That, however, was not what drew Jon's attention. That would be what emerged from behind the armoured Skaven and moved to stand in front of them. There were seven of them, and they were as large as the ogre who had been in the caravan to Marienburg. Their bodies rippled with the muscle. They had large blades and armoured plates strapped to their bodies, and they roared with bestial fury. Behind them stood normal-sized Skaven who carried whips and prods, which they used to whip and prod the larger Skaven forward. Jon wondered why the large creatures did not simply turn on their tormentors and tear them apart, but he did not have time to wonder about it for long as the creatures broke into loping runs towards him and the others. As they charged forward, the remaining Skaven began loping forward, though at a much slower pace. Their strategy was clear; they were going to use the large Skaven to break holes in the human lines, and the smaller Skaven would pour through. Once the expedition was divided, then the Skaven would be able to fully bring their numbers to bear, and Jon doubted that they would last long if that happened.
"BRING THEM DOWN!" De Felice cried, shaking Jon from his reverie. De Felice put action to words by firing at the charging monsters with his pistols. All the others with missile weapons also joined in. A bolt of lightning from Ingfried took one in the head, causing it to explode, and the combined fire from the others brought down another of them, but the others were closing fast. Ingfried attempted to cast another spell at another of them when something went wrong.
She went suddenly rigid, and her words seemed to catch in her throat. She then doubled over and fell to her hands and knees. She seemed to try to speak, but when she opened her mouth, blood and bile came out. She then fell to her side and began convulsing, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Jon ran to her and fell to his knees at her side.
"What is it?! What is wrong?!" After a moment, she was able to speak.
"Cou…counter-spell. I… I'll be alright. Give me a…a moment." Jon would have liked to have stayed with her, but the enemy was almost on them, and he would be needed. Reluctantly he rose and headed back to his position. He was barely back when the monsters slammed into them.
He barely had time to dive to the side to avoid the sweeping metal claws of one of the monsters, which Jon noted in disgust had been bolted to where its actual hands had been amputated. Unfortunately, those around him were not so fortunate. The swipe of the right-handed claws cut through two men and one of the Dwarfs, while its left killed two more. Jon rolled under its swipes and lunged up to stab at its belly. Unfortunately, his blade struck an armoured plate, which was bolted to its belly, and his sword glanced off. From the screams from those around him, Jon guessed that the other monsters were wreaking havoc amongst the others, but he could do nothing about it at the moment. After the fate of those around him, Jon found himself alone with the monster. It did not seem to notice him at first, but after a moment, it seemed to do so and lunged for him.
They were too close together for it to use its blades, so instead, it tried to bite at him. Jon barely had time to once again jump back as jaws the size of a bear's snapped shut mere inches from him, jaws which looked more than capable of biting through his armour. Being too close to swing his sword, Jon slammed the pommel into its nose, breaking it. It reared back with a roar of pain, and Jon took advantage of this to aim a blow at its leg. The blow landed but failed to cut through the thick bone. The creature responded by turning so swiftly that this time Jon was not swift enough, and the creature's tail took him in the chest. The breath left his lungs, and he flew several feet to crash to the ground.
For a moment, Jon could only lie on the ground, struggling to get his breath back. Then, roaring in triumph, the monster stomped towards him, eager to finish Jon off. Seemingly from nowhere, Ghost appeared and leapt at the creature, his teeth latching on the creature's cheek. It reared up to its full height and shook its head from side to side. Then, with a wet tearing, the cheek tore free, and Ghost fell back to the ground. Not seeming to notice its injury, the creature resumed its charge towards Jon, who had by now regained his breath and scrambled back to his feet.
As they closed, the creature drew back its right hand for a blow. Jon tensed, waiting for the blow. Once it struck, he would doge and then attempt to sever the wrist or what was left of it. The arm went up and then came down. Jon prepared to leap to the side when movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. It seemed that the smaller Skaven had arrived. Distracted, he jerked his head back just in time to see the larger Skavens claws about to hit him; he did not even have time to bring up his shield. As the blow came down, it was intercepted.
An axe came seemingly out of nowhere, its head tearing through flesh and bone. The blow took the bladed arm all the way to the ground and continued through, taking the blades off, along with the wrist they had been attached to. Then, with a scream of pain, the Skaven jerked its arm back and took several steps back. It tried to clutch at its wound with its left hand, except its left hand was only more blades, which cut more wounds in its flesh. Even as Jon watched, it stumbled and fell to the ground. He was thinking of running forward to finish it off when one of the smaller Skaven stabbed him. Its crude spear glanced off his armour without injuring him, but it drew his attention. As he turned to face them, he found himself standing beside Olaf.
"Come, Empire man! No time to be looking like a stunned ox! With that, he charged the Skaven with a wild cry that made Jon think of Tormund Giantsbane. His axe flashed and spun as if it were a living thing. Olaf seemed impossibly strong, cleaving through two or three at a time. While clearly stronger than Jon, Olaf lacked finesse. Had he been fighting against a skilled fighter, he would have been in trouble. Jon, rejoined by Ghost, took up a position which would allow him to guard Olaf's back as the larger man hacked his way through the Skaven. Such was the carnage that Olaf and Jon wrought that soon the Skaven began fleeing as soon as they approached. Olaf seemed to think this as either a challenge or an insult and chased after them, bellowing something in his native language. Jon, on the other hand, took advantage of the pause to take in what was going on all around them.
What he saw was not encouraging.
As he had feared, the Skaven had used the larger ones to break up the expedition's line and allow the smaller ones to pour into the gaps. The Skaven were able to bring their numbers to bear, and they clearly believed that they were on the verge of victory, and that emboldened them, and they swarmed onwards like a tide of fur and fangs. Already a number of Jon's comrades had fallen, and there was little that Jon could see that challenged the Skavens' confidence. Not that the Skaven were having it all their own way.
Their numbers had been reduced, but those of the expedition who still remained were fighting with the strength and fury of the desperate. Singularly or in groups, the remaining men fought like heroes in Old Nan's stories. Four of the larger Skaven were dead, as were a large number of the common ones. Many of them were sporting injuries, but they fought on, with those who could form up into groups with the others what they had been with when they had joined the expedition.
The Dwarfs and the remaining crossbowmen and halberdiers had formed a ring of steel and were repelling the Skaven assaults and inflicting heavy losses on the Ratmen. Unfortunately, the sellswords were not doing so well and had been broken into several desperate bands; even as Jon moved to aid them, one such group of six men was overwhelmed and pulled down to vanish under a veritable tide of Skaven. Another group looked as if it was about to suffer a similar fate, but then the Ottaviano brothers, along with Sir la Gajant, his nephew and the remainder of his party, fell on the Skaven from behind. They broke through to the men, linked up with them and fought their way out. Alas, Jon had no time to watch the battle as a number of Skaven charged towards him.
Cursing himself for letting himself be distracted, Jon moved to meet them, as it was clear that he could not make it to any of the others before the Skaven reached him, Ghost at his side. This seemed to take the Skaven by surprise; they clearly had expected Jon, being outnumbered, to run from the larger force and were surprised when he chose to charge them instead. This took them off-guard, and for a moment, they came to a halt. Their indecisiveness lasted only for a moment, and then they resumed their charge, but it was already too late; they had lost their momentum and were wrong-footed when Jon crashed into them at a full run. Despite being as tall as men, the Skaven were much lighter, and Jon was in full armour. He crashed into them and bowled several over. Ghost likewise took down several with his weight, fang, and claw.
The Skaven began to back away, but when one tried to run, a larger Skaven near the rear cut it down. This seemed to rally the others, or at least make them fear their own leader more than Jon and Ghost, and they charged again. This would not be a duel; it would not be a contest of skill. He was outnumbered, and the numbers against him were likely to grow. The only way to survive was to break them, and the only way to break them was to strike terror into them through sheer savagery and inflicting as many losses on the enemy as possible, so Jon fought as savagely as he could. He slashed, stabbed, kicked and punched, sacrificing fines for strength. This resulted in some of his blows going astray, with blows occasionally bouncing off armour or sliding from shields, but it did not matter. Even when a blow was deflected from the intended target, it would carry on to strike another. Jon continued to push forward into the mass of Skaven. He had to get amongst them as, by doing so, those closest to him formed a barrier to those beyond them, preventing them from bringing their full numbers to bear. Blades and spears struck him, but the crudely forged weapons failed to penetrate his armour. He felt a flash of pain that was not his own. Looking about, he saw to his horror that a spear, the lower half broke off, was piercing Ghost's side. The remains of the spear's owner were swiftly being riven by the direwolf as blood trickled from the wound. The wound did not appear serious, and Ghost continued to fight, and Jon did not have time to worry about it.
One of the remaining giant Skaven was making its way towards him. Uncaringly it came on, and any of its fellows who were too slow to get out of the way were either crushed or swatted away. This time the leader was not able to restrain them, and soon, the Skaven surrounding Jon had fled, leaving only the large one. As it charged towards him, Jon forced himself to be calm and prepare for the coming battle. This battle would be the opposite of the one which he had just been engaged in, needing careful planning, whereas raw aggression would only get him killed. Just as he made this decision, the giant Skaven reached him. As it did so, Jon sent a quick command to Ghost.
"GO!" He demanded. While the wound did not appear to be too serious, it did appear that it had slowed the direwolf down somewhat, and Jon did not want him fighting the large creature in the state that he was in. With apparent reluctance, Ghost moved away.
It brought both its arms up, one tipped with claws and the other with a massive spiked ball and brought them down. Knowing that he could not hope to withstand such a blow, Jon rolled forward, and the blows struck the ground behind him. Remembering the armoured plates of the other one, Jon rolled again. This took him between the creature's legs, and he came up behind the creature. As he had hoped, there were no armoured plates on its back. Even as it began to turn towards him, Jon dropped his shield and raised himself to his full height, clutching his sword with both hands, to spear the monster in its back. He had been aiming for its kidney, but though the creature howled in pain, it appeared he had failed to pierce its organs.
The monster continued to turn, nearly tearing Jon's sword from his grasp and struck at him again. Jon frantically dived to the side and hacked at the extended arm as the creature began to pull its arm back. The creature responded by lunging forward to snap at him with its jaws. Jon managed to move out of the way, a plan forming in his mind. He backed away but remained positioned directly in front of the Skaven. Seeing this, the creature swiped at him again. As before, Jon evaded, though this time, he simply stepped back far enough away so that the blow was short. Clearly frustrated, the creature again lunged forward to bite at Jon. Jon, for his part, had been waiting for this, his body tense. As the massive jaws neared him, Jon lunged forward. His aim was true, and the blade went straight into its open mouth. It struck the skull and continued on into its brain. The creature continued onward and crashed into Jon, bearing him to the ground, and this time he did lose his grip on his sword. Together they crashed to the cave floor, and though it was clear that it was dead, its weight pinned him to the ground.
As Jon frantically struggled to free himself, he heard chittering laughter. Looking about, he saw that a group of Skaven were moving towards him, knives and swords in their hands. While such weapons had possessed little threat to him before. Now, however, he was pinned and could not move, which would enable them to find gaps and joints in his armour. He frantically redoubled his efforts to get free, but the body refused to budge. His obvious distress clearly amused the Skaven, and they walked towards him slowly, allowing his fear time to grow.
Nevertheless, they continued to draw closer. As they closed in on him, the one in the lead's attention was caught by something. It looked up and emitted a terrified squeak, and a foul smell began coming from its body. A moment later, it was knocked to the ground, with Ghost on top of him. Not far behind the direwolf was Sir D'Alfonsi.
The knight's spear was gone; in its place was a one-handed sword he was using to expertly cut down any Skaven who came near. Once again, the Skavens' nerve broke, and they fled. With Ghost keeping the Skaven at bay, Sir D'Alfonsi rushed to Jon's side and added his strength to Jon's efforts. With the aid of Sir D'Alfonsi, Jon was gradually able to wriggle out from under the large body. Regaining his feet, Jon only had time to nod his thanks to Sir D'Alfonsi before a fresh swarm of Skaven was upon them. They had the all-too-familiar greenish glow in their eyes and the accompanying savagery. Not having time to fall back to the others, Jon and Sir D'Alfonsi fought back-to-back, with Ghost moving along the edge of the fighting and attacking whenever he saw an opportunity.
The Skaven swarmed them, their numbers augmented by their sorcerous savagery. Some of them were so caught up in it that they threw their weapons away and simply tried to grapple with them. The fighting grew so fierce that Jon's arm began to become heavy and sore from swinging it so much, but he had no choice but to fight on. Though they had never fought together before, he and Sir D'Alfonsi fought well together, and they both saved the other's life. Jon deflected a strike from a Skaven, which had shot near the ground to Sir D'Alfonsi's feet and was lunging up to stab the knight in his groin. Sir D'Alfonsi returned the favour by deflecting a spear thrust aimed at the back of Jon's neck. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sorcerous rage vanished. The Skaven all paused and looked about as if they did not know where they were. Jon and Sir D'Alfonsi were quick to take advantage of the sudden change and cut down a number of them, and the remainder fled. As they ran, several of them were blasted by a lightning bolt. Looking behind him, Jon saw Ingfried standing there, leaning heavily on her staff. She still looked strained but determined and gave Jon a savage grin.
"That rat is not the only one who can cast a counter-spell." Jon merely nodded, relieved to see that she appeared to be alright. He then gave a slight groan. With the battle over, at least for the moment, Jon's body was informing him just how tired and sore he was. It took all of his efforts to keep his body from collapsing, he wished that he could sit down, but he feared that if he did, then he would not be able to get up again.
In an effort to distract himself, Jon looked about at the remainder of the expedition. More than half of them were down, either dead or wounded and even many of those still standing sported minor wounds. While they had suffered grievous losses, the Skaven had achieved this at great cost. The Ratmen had taken at least five times as many casualties as the men, and their bodies lay so thick on the ground that the cavern floor could not be seen in places. Despite the fact that they were victorious, it was clear that that victory had been hard-won and to Jon, it looked as if the majority of those remaining looked to be as weary as Jon felt. He honestly could not see how they could continue on after this, though he was uncertain how to tell Lord De Felice of this. He was sure that the man knew it, but he doubted that the man would so easily accept it. His thoughts were interrupted by a most unwelcomed sound, and from the groans and curses of those around him, Jon knew that the others were hearing it too.
The Skaven had returned.
Not having any other choice, the survivors formed the best defensive line that they could. Jon found himself standing near Sir D'Alfonsi, Sir la Gajant, Olaf and De Felice himself. As before, the Skaven swarmed towards them, the green light in their eyes. There was, however, something different about them. True, there were a great number of them, and the greenish glow was still in their eyes, but even so, they did not appear to be so threatening, and after a moment, Jon saw why. The Skaven, while numerous, all seemed to be of the small and emaciated kind. There was no sign of the larger, more heavily armed Skaven. More importantly, the giant Skaven were utterly absent. As they closed, the defenders opened fire upon them.
Though their numbers had been depleted, the defenders wrought much carnage amongst the oncoming attackers. Jon dearly wished that he had his bow with him, but he did not, and so all that he could do was cheer the archers on. It was Ingfried, however, who did the most damage. It appeared that the Skaven wizard was no longer present or was concealing itself, and she was able to work her magic without interference, though it was clear that she, too, was tired. Despite this, she seemed to summon some hidden reserve of vitality and press on. Bolts of lightning and blasts of wind lashed out, causing many deaths and wounds and opening up gaps in the advancing wave. The attackers' progress was slowed, but they continued on. As they closed, Jon and the others braced for attack. Before the two sides came together, however, De Felice went rigid and issued a cry of dismay as he stared at something. As they were on a slight rise, they could see over the heads of the Skaven to what lay beyond.
A large number of Skaven were moving through their constructions, many of these were of the larger Skaven, and there was a number of larger, black-furred Skaven wearing full armour and carrying halberds. They were a formidable force, more so than the one which was attacking them. The larger group, however, was not heading towards the expedition. Instead, it was heading towards a large tunnel which led away from the battle. At first, Jon did not realize why their leaving would cause De Felice such dismay, but then he looked again and saw why. Amongst the black-furred Skaven was an even larger Skaven. Like those around it, it too wore full armour, and in its paws, it carried a bundle. Squinting his eyes, Jon saw, to his horror, that the bundle was a baby.
"ALIGHIERO!" De Felice called out as he saw his grandson. Throwing caution to the wind, he broke from the line and began running after the Skaven holding his namesake, apparently uncaring that he would have to fight his way through both the Skaven attacking the expedition and the Skaven around the one holding his grandson. Beside Jon, Sir la Gajant let out what Jon assumed was a curse.
"Fool will get himself killed." He declared. Jon could not disagree. What the older man was doing made no sense, and he had no hope of succeeding. Nevertheless, Jon found himself running after De Felise, Ghost at his side. After a moment, he heard the sound of heavy feet striking the ground near him. Glancing back, he saw that Sir la Gajant, Sir D'Alfonsi and Olaf had joined him as well.
De Felice crashed into the oncoming Skaven, fighting with more speed and ferocity than skill. A moment later, Jon and the others too hit the Skaven line. All weariness seemed to leave Jon as he thrust and slashed at the Skaven around him, with Sir D'Alfonsi once again guarding one flank while Ghost guarded the other. Sir la Gajant clubbed at them with his mace; Jon saw one blow pulping the skulls of three Skaven while Olaf swung his axe back and forth like a farmer scything a field of wheat. Had the Skaven all turned on them, they would have been pulled down by the sheer weight of numbers, but that did not happen. The majority of the Skaven continued on to attack the rest of the expedition. They broke through and continued running towards the second group. The Skaven saw them coming and increased their speed, with many of the lighter armoured Skaven running passed the black-furred ones and running on towards the tunnel. The leader snarled at them, but most paid it no mind and ran on. Then, at a command from the leader, its bodyguards, for they could be nothing else, lashed out at the fleeing Skaven with their halberds, killing a dozen or so. This cowed the remaining ones, and many of them halted their flight, though many more were too far away to see what had happened and continued on. As they did so, Jon saw the Skaven with the horns standing near the leader. It raised its staff and chittered and shrieked as it did so. The all-too-familiar green light came to the eyes of the lightly armoured Skaven, and they threw themselves at Jon and the others.
As the two sides closed, Jon thought that he was going mad or had sustained an injury to his head as he was seeing stars. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he opened them, he was still seeing them, or at least lights that looked like stars. They were circling around him, and when he looked at the others, he saw that they, too, had similar lights orbiting them. He did not know they came from or what they did, then they and the Skaven reached each other, and he found out. Whenever one of the lights made contact with a Skaven, they cut it as if they were blades. Driven by their wizard's spell, the Skaven continued to throw themselves at the humans uncaring of the lights and more than one was simply cut to pieces by them. Farther back, the Skaven wizard again cast a spell, and the stars, or whatever they were, faded away. It chittered a laugh and began another spell.
Before it could finish, however, its words seemed to catch in its throat. It dropped its staff and clutched at its throat. Its body seemed to swell like a pig's bladder being blown into a ball. After a moment, it grew too big and burst like a punctured wineskin, showering those around it with gore. At the same time, De Felice, who was a little ahead of the others, burst through the lighter-armoured Skaven and came face-to-face with the black-furred Skaven. These were not ensnared and lowered their halberds and charged, even as Jon joined him.
These Skaven were different from the others, being taller, stronger, better armed and armoured. They were also better trained and fought with coordination. This initially took Jon by surprise. He had become accustomed to Skaven relying on their numbers or ferocity to defeat their opponents and was not prepared for a foe who fought more like men. The first one he faced parried his thrust, while a second one aimed a thrust at Jon's face, causing Jon to instinctively back up while raising his arm to block the blow. This encouraged his opponents, and they both advanced. Jon feigned another thrust at the first Skaven again, and it prepared to parry again while the second aimed another thrust. As soon as he saw that they were committed, Jon changed the course of his strike and changed the direction of his strike and instead aimed it at the second one. Fortunately, its halberd was extended, and it could not bring it to a blocking position, and Jon's blade went straight into its open mouth and pierced its brain. Jon quickly pulled his blade free as he stepped to the side and struck low, sweeping its legs out from under it. The Skaven fell to the ground, and Jon stabbed down through a gap in its armour and speared its throat.
"NO!" A cry from De Felice drew his attention.
The nobleman had fought his way through the bodyguards, leaving a trail of charred bodies behind him and had reached the lord. The Skaven lord had dropped the babe to the ground and had drawn its weapon, which seemed to be a cross between an axe and a pick and had aimed a blow at the defenseless child. De Felice moved to block the blow, leaving himself vulnerable. The Skaven, moving swiftly despite its amor, slid past De Felice and swung a blow which took the man in the back, piercing his armour. He gave a cry of pain, and his sword fell from his grasp. It clattered to the ground and fell down one of the fissures. The sight filled Jon with rage, and he charged forward unthinkingly. The Skaven turned and saw him coming but was unable to react in time.
They crashed into each other, falling to the ground, with Jon on top. There was not enough room to use his sword, and so he let it go. Instead, his hand flew to his belt and drew his dagger. The Skaven saw it and struggled desperately, but Jon was the stronger. Jon forced the dagger into the eye slit of Skavens helmet and pressed down. The Skaven jerked and went still. The effect on the Skaven was instantaneous. All those Skaven who saw it shrieked in panic and fled; their fear was infectious, and soon, all the Skaven were in flight. Several looked as if they would trample the child in their flight, but Jon threw himself over him and shielded him with his body, Ghost standing nearby. At last, like a tide flowing out, the Skaven vanished into the tunnels. The expedition let them go; they were in no shape to pursue and had no desire to do so. Jon got back to his feet, sheathed his sword and picked up the child. He was pleased to note that the other three were still alive, though all looked wearied and sported innumerable injuries. As they rejoined the others, Olaf carrying De Felice, Jon saw how badly they had fared.
Giordano and Narciso were slain, as were both the Ottaviano brothers. Nearly half of the Dwarfs were dead, as were many of the sellswords and eight of the men sent by Princess Belladonna, and many of those still living were sporting wounds of various severity. Nevertheless, they immediately began to make their way back the way that they had come. Many would have liked to have rested but feared that if they remained, the Skaven would regroup and return. Even without that threat, Jon did not doubt that he was not alone in being heartily sick of the tunnels and longed to see the sun again.
There was no order to the march back; all they cared about was speed, something which was hampered by the numerous wounded that they had with them. They drove themselves hard, only reluctantly stopping to rest when absolutely necessary. Despite this, it seemed that the tunnels were growing longer, and he began to think that they would never get out of them. The desperation seemed to be shared by many of the others, and the air in the tunnels grew thicker with an air of desperation. Finally, they found themselves at the entrance to the tunnel. Sir D'Alfonsi took a spear from one of the men and tapped out a pattern on the stone. As soon as he was done, the stone was removed, and a ladder was lowered. After the wounded were lifted up, Jon and the others also climbed out. Once in the temple, Jon saw that the tunnel had been surrounded by numerous knights and other soldiers.
Jon took several deep breaths, joyously breathing in the fresh air. Once everyone was out, a group of Dwarfs descended; Jon later learned that they were there to collapse the tunnel to ensure the Skaven could not use it again. The remaining members of the expedition made their way towards the De Felice estate. Emerging from the temple, Jon saw that the sun was just beginning to rise. As they walked through the streets, he found himself walking next to Sir D'Alfonsi. The knight had removed his helmet, allowing his long curly hair to fall almost to his shoulders. As they walked, he turned to regard Jon.
"I must thank you for saving my life, Sir…" He paused and looked both slightly embarrassed and expectant.
"Jon…Jon Jäger." Jon replied, remembering the name Ingfried had given him.
"And I am no knight, though I accept your thanks and offer my own in return for you saving my life in turn. Twice." Sir D'Alfonsi nodded in acknowledgement but appeared surprised.
"You are not a knight.
"Forgive me, I saw your armour and assumed…." His voice trailed off, and he looked embarrassed. Jon gave him a kind look.
"No offence taken. I am no knight, though my father was of noble birth." He said no more, and Sir D'Alfonsi did not appear inclined to inquire further.
They at last reached the De Felice estate, and it was clear that they were expected. A man Jon knew to be the family steward greeted them, and with him was a priestess of Shallya and the family physician. With the aid of several servants De Felice and his grandson were spirited away. Once this was done, the others went inside. The other members of the expedition were taken by the steward to be paid off while Jon, Ingfried and Sir D'Alfonsi continued to the main hall. There they found Princess Belladonna, accompanied by Margaery, Sir D'Alfonsi's father, Herman and a number of other prominent-looking people. Several of these people spoke, praising Jon and the others for their valour and success. It was kind of them, but Jon found himself growing weary and longing for a hot bath, food, and a bed. At last, it seemed that all that needed to be said had been said, and the gathering began to break up. Before they could, however, Sir D'Alfonsi motioned that he wished to speak.
"My lords and ladies, I thank you for your kind words, but more needs to be said." He motioned for a confused Jon to join him.
"Jon Jäger, in the perils we faced, you proved yourself to be a man of courage, skill and honour. You saved my life, avenged Lord De Felice and protected his grandson at great risk to yourself. These deeds make you worthy of this honour. Kneel." Jon realized what had happened but was too stunned to say anything as he obeyed. A quick look showed that Ingfried and Margaery were both surprised and pleased. As Jon knelt, Sir D'Alfonsi drew his sword and tapped Jon on both of his shoulders.
"In the name of Myrmidia and all the true gods of men, I charge you to be just, true and honourable. To guard against evil and protect the innocent. Rise, Sir Jon Cuor di Lupo." Jon rose, still slightly stunned.
After many congratulations, particularly from Ingfried and Margaery, Jon was able to make his way to his quarters. He found them empty. He hoped that Gunther was not getting into mischief but was too tired to care and was more annoyed that he would have to get out of his armour by himself. As he began the process, his eyes fell on the bed. There was something lying on it wrapped in cloth. As he came close, he saw that a piece of paper was lying beside whatever it was. He picked it up and saw that there was something written in Reikspiel.
The note was short. "Congratulations. Accept this blade as a gift from Carmilla von Carstein, know that you are ever in my heart, best regards your darling lady of the night."
Stunned once again, Jon hastily put down the note and unwound several folds of cloth, revealing a thing of remarkable beauty. It was a sword unlike any he had seen before; Its scabbard glittered black and was clasped with steel. The pommel was wrought of gold and shaped to resemble a dragon's head, a large ruby clutched in its maw, while the guard resembled its talons; these, too, had large rubies that glimmered like stars. He stared at it for a moment and then slid the sword smoothly from its sheathe; a thrilling musical note sang out the runes along its blade blazed brightly, and he smiled, knowing the blade's name Karaghul.