Years of the Covenant: Part 3

Vannolyn felt himself coming awake, his distorted vision began to clear. Sharp pain still wracked his body where the arrows pierced his shoulder and side. It was cold and damp, darkness consumed the world all about. A thick layer of mist blurred the surroundings. Next to his feet layed a traveling pack, his two swords and dagger, a bow and quiver of arrows, a length of rope and a grappling hook. On top of the pack was a note. It read:

"Light is the enemy, darkness is the ally.

Here in the depths of the shadows, all is possible.

The natural is lost, and the mythical live.

Climb to the heights of the pillars, and face the demon.

Only then will you see freedom.

Embrace the darkness and you will live to see another day."

He placed the note on the ground and opened the pack. A black ranger's outfit was inside, a pair of black leather boots, a pair of black gloves, and a thick dark cloak. Vannolyn didn't know what to make of all this. His assailants attack him, leave him for dead, and now promise him a way to life and freedom. Who were these people and what did they want. And furthermore, where was he? He picked up the note again and read the fourth line, "climb to the heights of the pillars, and face the demon."

He looked all about, he couldn't see through the layers of mist ... he could see no pillars. Vannolyn didn't know what else to do ... so he did the only thing he could do. He changed into the dark outfit he was provided. It was a surprisinngly good fit. He shouldered the bow and quiver, placed the dagger and black blade at his waste, and the broadsword across his back.

It was no use keeping his old clothes, so he tossed them off to the side. Vannolyn had taken only a few steps when suddenly a loud roar echoed off in the distance ... a roar of something unnatural. He remembered the third line ... "the natural is lost, and the mythical live." Whatever was out there was not something of the natural world, and wherever he was, it was nowhere near home.

Hours passed and all he could see before him was endless dense expanse of mist. Shadows darted all around him in the darkness. Finally the mist began to clear and something became visible in the distance. Dark silouettes of columns appeared up ahead ... wait not columns, pillars! Those must have been the pillars the note spoke of.

There were whole series of them, stretching from direction of the mist into the other. They were gigantic, ancient by the look of them. The pillars seemed to be made of the same dark stone material as the ground beneath him. As he drew closer he could see that the pillar before him criss-crossed with cracks and crevices, a fortunate break for the current predicament he's in. He attached the grappling hook to the rope and prepared to throw it into one of the higher grooves, when suddenly ...

Thud! ... Thud! ... Thud! ... Thud, thud!

Vannolyn froze in his boots, he felt himself go instantly cold ... the loud thuds stopped right behind him. He heard a heavy warm breathing behind him. Vannolyn turned about very slowly, and right behind was a large, hulking silouhette and a pair of glowing green eyes. With his hand quivering, he quickly removed the bow and an arrow. The creature lumbered forward further and let out the same shrill roar as he heard hours before; it was tracking him.

He hardened his resolve and fought against his fear. The bow went taught and the arrow was sent flying. He landed the target directly in the chest ...

The creature barely flinched, it roared again and charged him. Suddenly it became very clear, it was an umberhulk! But move much quicker, much more fluently than any other he had ever seen. Without anytime to react the creature struck him with amazing force and speed. Pain wracked Vannolyn's body as he shot backward and slammed against one of the pillars. Falling to ground, he felt a moment of shock. The umberhulk was already rushing him again and so he dodged quickly to the left. It's left claw tore a chunk of the stone from the pillar, just barely missing him.

Vannolyn whipped about, the dagger in hand. He lodged deep into the soft flesh right below the left shoulder. The creature roared again and swung with massive force; its right claw caught him by the chest and sent him scraping across the ground, blood and dirt smearing his face. There was deep gash that continued pouring blood from Vannolyn's cheek. Searching for the bow, he then realized that he had lost it when he was struck the first time. So he reached behind his back and drew his broadsword. He charged forth ... then halted, remembering the first words of the final line ... "embrace the darkness".

So he fell back into the shadows, disappearing into the mist. Keeping the creature in sight, he could see only the silouhette ... it was limping. For a moment he had eluded the beast. It heaved and weezed trying desperately to find him. He circled about coming from behind. With light feet he dashed to take it by surprise. The blade raised high, he took a wide swing trying catch it under the shell ...

The creature turned on instinct, and instantly Vannolyn found himself in a terrible predicament. Its sharp pincers caught his broadsword in midswing, the blade lodged directly between them. It thrashed him all about, left and right, up and down, until it wrenched him free. Vannolyn was sent tumbling yet again, he was beginning to realize that he could not defeat this beast by shere strength alone ... but what else could he do. Its jaw suddenly broke loose, sending the blade flying out of reach. He had exhausted all his options ... all but one.

He reached for the legendary blade at his waste, despite the darkness it still gleamed in the mist. He had never actually used it before, for him it was not proven battle ... but he had no choice.

Before he could even prepare himself it was on top of him, it had such phenomenal speed for its size. Both claws clamped onto him and had lifted him above the ground. He was trapped, and the pincers were closing about him. Its bone-wrenching strength wouldn't give, it only grew tighter ... and tighter ... and tighter. Vannolyn let free a shrill scream, he could feel himself slipping.

Then ... amazingly ... the black blade flared to life in a vibrant spiral of swirling white flames. When they finally shot off into the distance, the blade was left with a holy white glow, searing hot. In a weak and desperate attempt, he severed one of the pincers like it was nothing more than butter. The creature cried fury, dropping him to the ground. Knowing that this would be the only chance he'd get, he swept the white-hot blade along its underside; blood gushed freely. Quickly rolling away, he found himself behind the it. Without hesitation he climbed its back and drove the blade straight through the shell.

The second cry was even worse than the first, as it continued flail uncontrollably. In one final attemt he pulled free the white blade climbed to its neck, lifted the blade and swung ... decapitating its head.

Instantly the creature went still; it was dead. Panting heavily, he went limp. As he returned to reality, he saw that blood was everywhere. Not just the beast's, but his own as well. Blood coated his face and heavy gashes and bruised dotted his body everywhere, only adding the pain of the previous arrow wounds. In that moment the blad returned to the shiny black, rune-covered surface it once had.

It was a miracle, Vannolyn knew it had to be. There was no other explanation. But he didn't complain or question his good fortune. He retrieved his dagger from the fallen body and his broadsword some distance off, but his bow was in less than adequate condition. It had splintered at the cross section. So Vannolyn tore away a piece of his cloak and bound it tight around the break. It would have to do for now.

As proof of his conquest he took the severed pincer and sawed free the other, placing them in the empty pack. He walked back to the pillar at which he was looking at before, when suddenly he heard another roar far off in the distance. He knew that they would not be far behind.

Without a second glance he gathered up the rope and hook, and grabbed holf the crevices in the pillar, preparing for his acsent.