Hellbane - Part 4

Part 4

They slept for something of an hour naked in one another's embraces. Then they moved back to pond to clean themselves of their sticky, clammy session. Max's hair had receded back to its unkempt self whilst his fine features were still the same grim portrait they had always been, but his laboured skin slightly paler. He also had a vigour to him now that she could not place, a virile awakening that the fellow southlander lacked before. When they were done and Max picked up his shirt and Yvanna started to him, flushing red like her fiery curls.

"No! I want to feel to your skin.... I don't want to go back yet!" she blurted, holding his wrist.

He smiled, it melted her heart to see those glimmering teeth, and he went for their undergarments instead.

They found a bed of moss and laid in the coils of each other's soft skin. The cosmos above them a black ocean with glittering bodies of decayed stars that shone like pale huffing pinholes. She laid her ear on his chest and felt the beat of his heart synchronize with her own. His fingers were in her hair and she ran a finger along his bruised and cut chest. She didn't ask where he got the cuts, she didn't care. This was their precious moment and such dense questions would ruin it. The bullfrogs croaked a lullaby and they fell asleep. The tethered mounts at the pond shuffled.

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Midnight came and the mood in the caravan waned, but remained melodious. The music was low and created tunes reminiscent of ancient times. The puppet shows were closed as most of the children had fallen asleep. Only Arthur's Band, a few mercenaries and Magdalena's retinue were awake, just like those they served still panting and howling each other's names, or mostly Arthur's name.

The two lance-men guarding Lady Magdalena's tent were audience to the most lewd noises they had ever heard, especially when the fair lady had began to scream out how big Ser Arthur's 'jousting lance' felt in her ass.

One guard turned to the other, the on the right, "Hey, Lady Magdalena sure is a lucky woman. What I wouldn't give hey..."

His friend quirked a brow, "So you're telling me... you like...?"

"No! no! no!... I'm just saying. If I was a woman, I would, I mean, wouldn't you?"

"With Ser Arthur? The greatest knight of all time?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah."

The knight looked forward when heard the princess groan as Ser Arthur grunted with orgasm and filled her tight ass with cum. He turned to the other, narrowing his eyes "Wait... as a man or a woman? I mean, I justified my claim but you-"

"Shut up!-" his friend snapped. "He heard something." A rustle.

"You there, halt!" a lance was pointed as a figure walked toward them.

The stranger wore a heavy cloak and carried a bundle under its arm.

"Show your face!"

A voice most beautiful spoke from the hood, "I'm looking for the noble Ser Arthur Holt, it's urgent!" The voice was unlike any they had ever heard.

"Fuck off! He's busy with the lady. Looking over important... things." the guard said.

"Ser's, please!"

"I said fuck off or else! Phah, can you believe this one? Women ay?- ay?"

The guard turned to the other who had become eerily silent, he watched as the wide eyes of the other guard looked to the sky.

"Wa- what's that!" the guard stammered. A strange shadow in the sky coming toward them.

"A bird..." the first guard scoffed.

"Oh.. No," the cloaked figure said.

"That ain't no bird!"

The shadow loomed and grew as it swooped down. A terrible roar descending with an ungodly stream of fire spitting from its expanding form.

"Fools! You have doomed us all!" the cloaked figure bolted into the trees as the creature landed with a quaking roar.

Iridescent light and black smoke flared as scarlet fires warped trees into ash.

Max jerked awake, sweat on his brow.

Stirring, Yvanna said, "Max... what's-"

Screams. The frantic horses trudged around the pond as the blackest cries for help came with a wave of smoke billowing into the dell. There was a hot wind ahead as light bent the trees in strange shadows, shadows of men and fey burning.

They heard a roar, Max felt a tangent vibration against his leg. He glanced at the ancient leather hilt of Hellbane, throbbing in his ears as its runes shone with thirst.

Yvanna saw this terrible looking blade and felt dread course where a flutter of butterflies was earlier, "Max... whose sword... is that...?" she asked, watching the brass daemon skull emanate smoke as crimson as her mane.

"Mine." The squire grunted as he stood for his clothes, "Get up, there's trouble!" he said he slipped on his trousers, light boots and tunic.

"What- what's happening?" she cursed and fumbled with her blouse.

A gale of wind cracked, a galvanised howl rumbled from where the caravans where. The first of human life lurched into the glade, a panting man quickly stood and fell into the stiff arms of Maxwell.

"What's going on! What is it?"

"Da... dra... Dragon! DRAGON!" The man said, ripping himself away from Max's arms abd bolting past the fully-clothed Yvanna.

The girl shuddered as she held onto the squire, "How-- a dragon?-- aren't they dead?"

"I don't know... Anna, we need to do something..." he said as more people littered the dell.

Mothers with kids in their hands, drunkard with drinks and thieves with gold alike, running in fear. The squire trembled, she was without her sword and the fires tore through the clearing where the caravan trailers rested.

She saw it, a great black shadow unfurl out the channel and fire spiral out its jaws. "We need to go find more people, let's go!"

She was the first start for the camps and Max followed with a dulling Hellbane in his hand. Most of the camps were empty but those who weren't were subject to charred and torn bodies, human and fey alike.

A wall of flames coiled around the woodlands as they neared the caravan. Smoke cut their vision short as the fires burnt at temperatures not of Amicus. This creature was different from known tales of any legendary dragon. Its black abyssal scales writhed as it whipped its massive head and scarlet fires burst from its blasphemous core.

Max was the first to see its entirety, a great terrible horror romanticized by writers and knights. This was no earth-bound dragon. This had red-reptilian eyes, sharp jagged teeth and leathery wings.

"Nurzgaarul" he heard Sorminra's voice throb angrily between his ears., "the treacherous hell-dragon!"

Hellbane coursed violently as the beast lurched, hell-flame washing over the trailers and churned bodies venomously.

"Asshole! What are you gawking at? HELP!" Rowan's voice rose to his ears.

He watched the faux-blonde help an elf to her feet. At his sides were the other squires. Ulrike the elf with his svelte body and short cerulean hair, half-naked as he directed people away from the flames. Cassia was behind the elf, a loose tawny tunic rustling and brunette eyes stern as she guided a little girl to her mother. Cedric, shaking in summits of fear, huffed as he hauled the mangled body of a man to safety. Yvanna was in the back, guiding the people away from the caravan.

Max stood still as everything unfolded. He heard the clanking armour of Magdalena's personal guards as they stood before the hellish adversary. They were fully armoured, with shields, halberds, swords in their hands to match it.

"For God and Crown!" they chanted, watching the head of the beast rise.

"Shields!" and the shields came up like an iron wall.

Nurzgaarul conjured his hellish flames and his neck sweeled. His jaws opened and fire discharged out his rumbling throat. The sulphurous energies burned simple steel into molten pulp; flesh and bone and blood boiling and fusing with their armour like a conjoined sculpture. The wails and screams of the guards evaporated like their throats as they turned into blackened constructs under the hell-born fire.

"Oh no no no no no no no no no no no..." Cedric gulped as he watched the dying knights. He backed away, fear driving him.

Rowan saw this and snarled, "Get back here you fat coward!"

Cedric didn't hear, not through that daemonic howl the dragon birthed. He bolted.

Behind an encampment of tents Ser Arthur watched, beads of sweat on his brow. 

Magdalena, in her gown, clutched his hand. "Ser Arthur! Do something!"

Something? Do what? Die? The noble knight thought as he inhaled through his ragged nostrils. He wasn't even dressed properly yet, just pants and a simple shirt. And she wanted him to 'Do something'. Didn't she just see that creature smelt her knights like a bundle of letters in the fireplace?

"Ser Arthur!"

"WHAT?" he snapped, pushing her back, but the voice did not belong to the princess.

This voice one was leagues more melodious. He turned and saw a figure in a heavy cloak move toward him. The stranger knelt before him and presented to him a thick bundle.

"Take this, oh great Ser Arthur! Take this and smite the hell-beast Nurzgaarul!" the feminine voice said.

Arthur, uncertain of what to make of this, accepted and unwrapped the bundle. Gold shone from the cloth with divine luminescence.

"A broadsword?" he murmured.

The most beautiful broadsword his mortal eyes had ever seen. Its pommel had a gem that shifted in different colours. The hilt was the most supple mixture of gold thread and white leather -- a make he had never seen before, And the golden cross-guard was creafted with the unfurling wings of a swooping bird, a phoenix with sapphires for eyes. Its spine was but ancient runes in white, that ascended the blade made of gold.

"Take it. Take it and save these people. For yer are the greatest knight in Amicus!" the woman looked up, and though her face was shadowed, he caught a glimpse of an olive mane.

The great Ser Arthur Holt helfted the sword. It was light in his iron grip, and he felt undulating energies course through his veins, electrifying him with unfathomable power. The writhing pulse was all but foreign to him but he loved it no less. Holding the sword felt like making love to a multitude of women at the same time, an orgy of cosmic pleasure.

"Wow..." he murmured as he shifted the sword to his other hand, shuddering in pleasure as the feeling recurred, "So- what do I- eh?"

The cloaked woman was gone.

Magdalena looked at the great knight in utter awe, sensual desire coiling her nipples taut and gripping her womanhood.

The knight turned. He watched as the dragon blasted at some of his band with hot air that flung them back into the trees. It was Ser Leonard and Ser Cormac - his best of men.

"Lady Magdalena! Watch as I, Ser Arthur Holt, smite this dragon and avenge those who died this night!" he said, feeling a strange confidence in him.

"But Ser Arthur... your armour?"

"HA! When have I needed my armour to kill a monster! That reminds me of a story. Did I ever tell you of the time I killed an ogre with naught but a rock?"

She shook her head.

"Ah! Well, you see I was a young lad than, fresh out of knighting school-"

"Ser Arthur, the dragon!"

"Ah-ah-ah... what did I say about interrupting me?"

"No jousting lance for me?"

"Correct, no jousting lance for you... Now as I was saying. I was fresh out of knighting school..."

Across the caravan, the squires had helped all those they could find their way out of the clearing to where the fires did not spread. Some two hundred people would never forget this terrible day. They watched as the dragon was unchallenged. The knights: Leonard, Cormac, Borin, George and Dain, were nowhere to be seen. Nurzgaarul clacked his teeth and huffed, rearing his head in two directions, sensing two energies emanate from the trees across the caravan.

Max grunted as the hell-dragon swayed its massive head, "We need to kill that thing!"

Yvanna turned her head to watch the squire roll his shoulders, that menacing sword in his hand glinting diabolically.

Rowan snarled, "Oh please, impart to us how we simple squires will kill a dragon o' sage of assholes!" He glanced at the sword in Max's hand. What a piece of junk, he thought as he saw a tawny mouldering blade - a daemonic illusion disguising Hellbane, "Just because you found some rusty piece of shit in the woods doesn't make you a knight!"

"Fuck being a knight!" Max snapped, his eyes turned black.

Ulrike's thin elven voice slithered out his thin lips, "How will we kill it then? We're under-trained and amour-less, not that having any would help after what we have just seen. Tis foolish to engage in prideful endeavours Maxwell, let us retreat to fight another day."

Max grunted. He now remembered why Ulrike was the only one amongst them to meet him in a stalemate.

"Yeah, what he said," Cassia murmured as they dipped back into the trees.

Yvanna remained, and so did Rowan.

"Anna... get out of here." Max said softly.

The girl gasped and she started for him, whimpering into his chest, "No! No... I won't go!"

Rowan seethed, "Pfft! Let him go Anna, he'll be doing us all a favour. You know, I say he go for it. I will lead the lament for his funeral! Hell, I'll actually pay and plan it to!"

"Shut up, shut up you idiot!" Yvanna cried as she held onto the rigid Max, "Don't do it Max... please... not after... not after we..."

"Hey- guys," Rowan pointed. "Is that- Guys! It's Ser Arthur! Look!" Rowan jumped, "Ser Arthur will kill that fucking dragon! Yeah! Wow- Look at that fucking sword! Finally, a real hero is here to kick some ass!" his shouts brought back the attention of Cassia and the elf squire, Ulrike.

They watched as the noble Ser Arthur stepped into the clearing, between several different burning wagons, weilding a golden sword nobody has seen before.

Nurzgaarul cocked his head and clacked, backing away as the brilliance of the sword made his eyes burn at the mere sight of it.

The great knight looked at the massive creature, realization coming to him. This was no ogre, this thing was enormous! I'm going to die... I'm going to die!, he thought. And I didn't even thank good Patrick for squiring me! Oh god, that poor boy, how will he live without his idol to guide him, who will be his hero then?

 Max watched Arthur looking at the dragon, speaking in that annoying voice of his "You there, hell beast! Hark for I am Ser Arthur Holt, greatest knight in the world! And I will smite you!"

Nurzgaarul chuckled at the puny human, a millennia since he last laughed. He was Nurzgaarul, the Dragon Who Hell Feared. Usaurhathoab himself had ridden him through the cosmos before this petty rock and fungi of a world had come to being. And here, before him, stood some sack of pink shivering flesh which dared challenge him? Ridiculous!

An ember of fire swelled at his command as the dragon raised his head. Teeth glimmered silver in the waning moonlight as his jaw snapped and his throat gurgled, a great pool of fire welling in his core. Arthur watched the abyssal scales of the creature writhe and knew death was nigh.

Max looked around the carvan and saw the a slant burning wagon behind the knight. He would need to move around behind the knight to get to it. "Anna..."

She gasped at how tenderly he said it.

"You need to let go."

"Please... don't-" She looked up at him with wet eyes, "Don't do it Max-"

"Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Rowan sneered, "Pahh!, what do you think you're doing?"

"Squiring..." Max replied, then leapt into a feverish sprint.

Yvanna felt Ulrike and Cassia at her sides.

The elf narrowed his eyes. "He's crazy."

"He's dead," Cassia whispered.

Max cut through the trees and watched as the hell-dragon's throat began to swell. He leapt through a wall of flames and saw the beast dipping its massive head toward Ser Arthur, whose sword glowed in his hands. With pantherish agility he bolted between charred corpses and trailers. Nurzgaarul's mouth gaped in slow motion and scarlet fires whorled from its throat. Max sprinted up the bed of the slanted wagon, and flung himself into the air.

Nurzgaarul rumbled, his reptilian eyes narrowed as a shadow grew behind the shrieking knight. Emerging from the shadow was the crimson-runed blade of Hellbane and a daemonic roar. The primordial-dragon recoiled at the sight of the accursed sword. Arthur felt a heavy weight press onto his skull and push him into the black dirt. The knight screamed when thought it was the dragon squashing him. Max used the knight's head as a final step as he leapt. He remembered a sword-trick, a sword-trick he wanted to show to his father one day.

His arm stretched. Hellbane bellowed contemptuously at the traitor-dragon. Nurzgaarul's head turned, splashing the fire from his maw above the trees, blinding the audience from the spectacle. One of the dragon's crimson eyes split when the blade sank into the soft orb, splattered tainted blood ferociously.

A roar. A bellow. A thrashing beast with a famed knight cowering beneath it. Massive wings unfurled as the hell-dragon took flight with Max on its head. Fire brust from its mouth, ripping through woodland and earth. With a thrust of its wings, the dragon climbed above the trees. Then it turned back, shaking its head. It curled over the canopy of trees where two hundred people, fey and man alike saw its tawny underside. The dragon crashed a hundred yards farther into the woods and made the whole world shake. After an moment, it shot up again, and flew west with a violent wail of defeat.

Ser Arthur stood alone in the clearing as the embers and ash fell and shimmered around the caravan. The golden sword was in his hand. He looked up, fear and confusion on his face until he heard a voice call out. An exalting voice that belonged to blonde squire, Ronald.

It shouted, "Ser Arthur beat the dragon! Ser Arthur beat the dragon!"

Arthur looked about. He beat the dragon? He beat a legendary dragon? Him...? Of course he had! He was Ser Arthur Holt of course, no pesky dragon would best him! He grinned as he saw the squire run to him, praising his name. He felt powerful, invincible!

The people returned, fear on their faces, even his knights, whatever hole they crawled out from, and Magdalena in her dirty gown to. They looked up at his handsome features in miserable astonishment as the blonde-headed squire recounted the heroic tale that just happened! How the dragon shuddered in fear when he told it his name. And how the fires rose to blind the world during the grand battle . And a foolish squire who ran to his master only to run away in fear at the sight of the great beast... as he was clearly nowhere to be seen.

Yvanna whimpered in fear at the thought.

Ulrike's eyes narrowed as people crowded the famed and truthful Ser Arthur. The elf slowly shook his head as the fanatic Rowan got louder and louder to shout how great the unconquerable knight was.

Behind the crowd, squires heard a rustle. Cedric appeared with Max clinging to the rotund squire dearly. He was dirty and black with soot. A grim black sword dangled in his trembling hand.

Yvanna cried when she saw him, and embraced his shaking body. "Where did you go! I thought- I... what happened?" she cried into his chest.

Max looked at his fellow squires and sniffled. "Yeah- Like Rowan said, I ran away..."

Ulrike frowned, his immaculate features wrinkled as he shot Cedric a look.

Cedric looked away.

"You're lying," the elf said, catching a glare from Max, "It's that sword, isn't it? It's one of them isn't it? It's-"

"GODSPEAR! Godspear! It's the fabled blade of Reion himself! Godspear!" a voice rose from the crowd feverishly. T'was that of a shaggy man with rags clinging to his emaciated body, known as Ferris the Insane.

"Godspear!" he cried as the crowd parted for him. He fell to his knees, kissing the dusty boots of the knight. His arms outstretched as he looked up at Ser Arthur blissfully, "Praise be to the champion of Reion! Praise be to he who wields the sacred sword! The Golden Messiah! Purger of Hell! Liberator! Saviour!" the man chanted.

Those who knew the legend fell to their knees and lowered their heads. Those who did not, still bowed their heads reverently.

"What is a... Godspear?" someone asked.

The man in rags stood. Ferris the Insane recanted the epic of the daemon-king and their god. He concluded, "And now Reion has chosen he who will destroy the wicked sword Hellbane and its daemonic master! Hail! For we are not worthy!" Ferris bowed, kissing the gallant knight's shoes.

The squires listened to the jubilant crowd praising Ser Arthur, their ecstatic commentary filling the din.

"Reion has chosen the perfect hero!"

"Ser Arthur will fulfil his destiny!"

"I always knew Ser Arthur was chosen!"

"Oh praise Reion for his wise decision!"

"Hail the Golden Saviour! Hail!"

Max murmured, "Oh come on... seriously?"

Ulrike only smiled when he caught the words.

In his hand, Hellbane growled only to him. He glowered as the irony unfolded. Of all the curses that Sorminra had told him the accursed blade would bring, he found it strange that this sole independent gift that had befallen the great Ser Arthur was not even the sword's fault.

Ser Arthur looked at his adoring crowd and at his band, all the men were on their knees. He flashed everyone a smile.

"Ser Arthur, now that you are chosen for this great mission," Ferris the Insane beamed, "What will you do?"

The fair-haired knight pursed his lips in thought, a collection of simple thoughts passing through his brain. He broke off into a beautiful smirk and thrust Godspear into the ground. He spoke in a loud valiant voice, "I will journey these lands, day and night. I will cross the eight seas in their most violent of storms. I will fight any dreg or monster that raises its vile hand against all that is good and righteous! I will not rest until whoever this vile daemon who wields Hellbane knows that my destiny is to smite them back in to the blackest pits of Hell!"

They chanted in veneration as he looked at all their dirty faces. They praised him and cried his name and women would name their babies after him for countless years hereafter. The knight cocked an eyebrow, "Now, where is my squire?"

The End

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