Tomb of the Primeval King – “Sacrifice to Lupa

Kylan moved quickly along the tunnel, casting wary glances at shadows.  The air seemed to be blowing fresh from ahead and a low thrumming noise carried to his ears.  He came to the end of the tunnel and stopped.  It curved sharply to the left and opened widely.  He hugged the tunnel wall and slowly peered around the corner.  Kylan’s eyes widened at what he saw before him.

The tunnel opening led outside into a huge bowl shaped depression.  At the center was a huge stone statue shaped like a wolf erected on an island of rock surrounded by molten rock.  Huge yellow precious stones were embedded where it’s eyes were carved, and a white marble slab lay between it’s enormous front paws.  The rock was stained with dark red blood that streamed down each side and spilled into the fiery moat.   To the left of the wolf statue, the ground sloped downwards into a black opening.

Kylan was looking at the heart of the volcano at the center of the island.  He heard a hissing sound and looked to his right.  Just ahead, molten rock poured from an opening.  It was deflected from solid ground into a channel that led to the moat.  A stone foot bridge carved out of the black rock stretched over to where the wolf statue sat.

All around the hissing fiery moat sat the wolf creatures prostrate on the ground.  They moaned in unison, their faces in the dirt.  Kylan saw a figure standing to the right of the altar.  It was a man, unlike any he had seen before.  Dressed in crimson robes with strange symbols stitched in gold thread, the man appeared to be a living skeleton.  Leathery brown skin was pulled tightly across his bones.  His face was a grotesque mask, just skin pulled over bone, and he had no nose or lips.  Bald and horrific, Kylan could not believe this fiend could be a living creature, but nothing more than a rotted corpse.

There was a commotion to his left.  The wolf creatures were dragging a man by the arms from another tunnel opening.  It was another Imorian, dressed like Sacra.  He struggled against his captors, but made no sound.  His two guards brought him over the bridge and stood him in front of the altar.  The hideous skeletal figure spoke in a thunderous voice.

“Lupa, god of wolves and the night.  Hear your faithful servant Kavag.  I again supplicate myself before your image to offer up the blood sacrifice of an unbeliever.  Take this offering into you and give to us another of your mighty Wolvani warriors in return.”

Kavag said something guttural and inhuman, the speech of the Wolvani.  The two guards ripped the robes from the captive, throwing them into the molten moat where they instantly vaporized.  The captive, naked and shaking, began to plead for his life.

“I am Yatas, royal ambassador to King Ossa of Imoria.  If you release me, I will pay handsomely in gold.” he stammered in his thick accent.

Kylan started to move forward to see if there was a way he could save Yatas.  There were over fifty Wolvani between him and Yatas.  Kavag pointed a bony hand at Yatas.

“Fool!    I have no need of gold.  I need warriors.  Your body will be traded for one that is more valuable to me than any earthly riches!” Kavag motioned to the guards with a skeletal hand.

They grabbed Yatas by the wrists and ankles and slung him on top of the altar.  He screamed and struggled.  One of the Wolvani guards struck him in the face, knocking him senseless.  The guards stood to the side and Kavag approached.  He pulled a long twisted dagger from his belt, stained red from his grisly work.  He raised it high above himself, arms outstretched.

“For you, all mighty Lupa!” Kavag screamed, plunging the knife into the heart of Yatas.

Yatas jolted under the impact of the blade and was still.  Kavag pulled the knife free and flung the fresh blood from the blade upon the enormous effigy.  Kylan watched the eyes of the statue glow luminescent yellow.

“It is done!” Kavag exclaimed.

The Wolvani guards roughly shoved the body of Yatas off the altar, letting the body fall into the molten moat to vaporize violently.  Black smoke billowed from the opening in the ground next to the statue.  Out of it walked a Wolvani warrior, snarling.

“Take your place amongst your brothers!” Kavag commanded, his arm outstretched to the prostrate Wolvani.

The Wolvani bowed and followed the bridge across the moat.  Kylan felt a sense of helplessness.  He had been transfixed by the horror of what just took place, unable formulate a plan to rescue Yatas.  Suddenly, the scream of a woman broke over the chanting Wolvani.  Kylan’s heart pounded in his chest.

He looked to his left and to his horror, Alaria was stripped bare and was being carried by two Wolvani, kicking and screaming.

“May the King of the Universe have mercy upon us.” Kylan muttered.

The final installment… “Kavag’s Demise”

Tomb of The Primeval King – “The Cave of Prisoners”

Kylan took Alaria by the hand, and they made their way down the slope, crossing the short distance to the beach quietly.  In the total darkness, they were but shadows mingling with the black sand.  They crept alongside the natural rock wall and made for the tunnel opening.

At it’s entrance, a foul stench hit their nostrils.  Alaria covered her nose with her hand but motioned to Kylan that she was ready.  Kylan could see the dim light from torches further into the tunnel.  He slid the sword from it’s sheath.  Alaria crept silently behind Kylan.  He could feel her hand gently at his back and her perfume scented the air near him.

They followed the tunnel as it turned to the right and sloped downward.  There were no tool mark to indicated the tunnel was man made.  It’s smooth walls had been molten rock at one time that had cooled.  They passed a torch mounted in a hold on the tunnel wall above them.  Ahead, Kylan noticed a dark shape and motioned for Alaria to stop.  He silently moved forward.

The torchlight revealed the bestial shape of something that resembled a wolf.  It was leaning against the tunnel wall, apparently asleep.  Almost as tall as Kylan, it reminded him of the Primorian creatures, but not as muscular.  Straggly wisps of gray fur hung loosely from its black skin.  Both legs and arms were covered in sinewy muscle and ended in large clawed hands.

A long gray tail twitched behind the creature as it slumbered.  The creature’s face was elongated with small pointed ears and an elongated wolf-like snout.  Kylan could see large white fangs at the front of the muzzle protruding menacingly.

Kylan cast a quick glance at Alaria, who nodded back at him.  He turned to strike with his sword.  As his arm raised for the attack, the wolf creature opened yellow eyes to stare at him.  A deep guttural growl sound emanated from the beast as Kylan’s sword sliced through it’s craned neck.  The body slumped to the sand as Kylan checked to see if they had been heard.

He found a short sword tied the creature’s waist by a leather cord and undid it.  Kylan handed it to Alaria, who had a look of disgust on her face.

“This sword belonged to one of my guard- see the markings on the hilt.  Kylan, I fear for their lives” she whispered, pulling the sword from the sheath.  She let the sheath fall to the sand.

Kylan nodded then continued on past the shaggy corpse.  Ahead, by torch light, the tunnel opened into a larger space.  To his right were three cells with crude iron bars.  There were casks and crates piled on either side, no doubt plunder from other ships.  He saw no movement ahead in the tunnel and turned is attention to the cells.  Alaria pushed passed him.

“Alaria!” Kylan whispered loudly.

She ran to the first cage.

“Tolmar, Sacra, wake up!” she whispered.

Two men roused from sleep, mumbled softly then recognized their Princess.  One of them was wearing the garments of a warrior.  He was as tall as Kylan with closely cropped black hair and dark tanned skin like Alaria.

He had a thin black line of a beard that ringed his face and merged with the small tuft of hair on this chin.  The other man was short and rotund, wearing long velvet robes that were dirt stained.  He too had short black hair and similar facial hair as the warrior.  Both men had visible cuts and swollen faces.

The warrior spoke in his native Imorian tongue.

“Princess Alaria!  By Zamar’s grace are we glad to see you!  Who is this?” the warrior nodded in Kylan’s direction.

“Tolmar, he is Kylan, also a prisoner onboard our ship, and like us, also betrayed by Respa’s treachery.  We can trust him.” Alaria replied in the common tongue.

“We must make haste, Princess, to free the others.” Sacra, the man in the robes said in a thick Imorian accent, motioning to the other cages.

“Yes, Princess, we are to be sacrificed to the god of the beasts that roam this wretched place.”

Tolmar added, “There are Black Guard here from the main land.  They plan to search the island in the morning for you,”

“It seems then, Respa has had second thoughts on your fate, my lady.” Kylan said, bowing his head slightly.

“Please, Princess, we must make haste!” Sacra pressed, his thick neck fat jiggling in frustration.

Kylan looked about the tunnel wall opposite the cages.  Under a torch, on a steel spike driven into the tunnel wall, hung a large iron ring with rusty keys.  He took the ring, and tried each key in the first cage’s lock until it opened.

Tolmar led the way, taking the ring of keys to the next cell, followed by Kylan, Alaria, and Sacra.  The other two cages contained a total of thirty men, mostly sailors, with five from Tolmar’s royal guard.  The Imorians were mumbling to one another in their language, confused by clearly relieved to be free.

“We can’t take the ship without weapons, Tolmar.” Kylan said looking further down the tunnels ahead.

“I agree, you lead the way- let’s see if we can find them, or take them by force.” Tolmar replied, his coal black eyes gleaming in the torch light.

Kylan crept ahead, motioning the others to stay.  Princess Alaria and Tolmar looked at each other then after Kylan.  There was a loud grunt, then a crunching thud.  Kylan came back to them, holding a broadsword.

“A gift to make our journey a little easier.” Kylan said, hefting the sword over to Tolmar.

Tolmar nodded then worked his sword arm a few times.

“There is another room ahead that looks to be full of supplies.  We may find weapons there.” Kylan said motioning the others to follow.

The group made its way past the dead wolf creature. Kylan motioned to the right.  Swords were stacked against each other, stuck point first into the black sand.  Each men hurriedly grabbed a sword and fell in line behind Tolmar.

Suddenly a hideous scream echoed down the tunnel and throughout the room.

“They took Yatas recently, perhaps that was his scream?” Tolmar asked.

“I’ll look ahead to see what I can do for Yatas.  Tolmar, take the Princess and the others to the ship.  I will meet you there soon.” Kylan said, grasping Tolmar’s forearm in a hand shake.

“Thank you, my friend.  We will wait for you.” Tolmar replied.

Kylan glanced at Alaria, who was translating their conversation to the others.  She looked at him with concern on her face.  He nodded with a grin and turned to the tunnel that led to the scream.  His hand gripped his sword tightly.  If they were to find their way out of this place, it would have to be through those creatures.

Kylan’s thought of Alaria as he made his way through the dimly lit tunnel.  He felt as if he would do anything to keep her safe.  No matter the dangers that lay in wait for him, Kylan would die so that Alaria could be free of this place.

Next installment…”Sacrifice to Lupa”

Tomb of The Primeval King – “The Laegarad Ship”

The trail before them curved down to the right towards the beach.  Kylan scanned the area where they stood and climbed over lower rocks to his left.  He walked ahead for awhile then returned to where Alaria stood on the path.

“I will carry you to that ridge.  The rocks are sharp along here and will cut your feet.”

Kylan took Alaria into his arms.  She was light and wrapped her arm around his neck.  Her body was warm against his own, and her hair smelled of a sweet flowery perfume.  Alaria’s beauty intoxicated his senses, and he had to force himself to stay focused on traversing the rocky terrain.

He continued along the ridge line and made progress upwards in an angle perpendicular to the peak of the ridge.  They crossed over the ridge and could see another beach isolated from the one Kylan had washed ashore onto.

“Look, Kylan, a ship!” Alaria pointed out past the beach.

A ship bearing the flag of Laegarad lay anchored just off the beach in shallow waters.  The storm had ended, the clouds and sky continued to darken.  It would soon be nightfall.  Kylan continued down the other side of the ridge, steadying himself against the loose gravel, and brought Alaria to large boulders that shielded them from view of the ship.  He gently set her on her feet on the cool black sand.

“There is a cave opposite the beach.  That is where the wolf creatures came from when they attacked.” Alaria said quietly, pointing to a dark opening below them.

“We’ll wait until nightfall, then I’ll see if I can release some of your royal guards.  We’ll need men to fight our way onto that ship.” Kylan replied slumping down against the boulder he was peering over.

“I will not stay here- I have skill with a sword and can fight as well as any man.” Alaria said in a fierce whisper, irritation showing on her delicate face.

“Then our first priority will be to find you a weapon.  Look, the ship is lighting it’s lamps.  Let us make haste.”

Next installment…”The Cave of Prisoners” 

Tomb of The Primeval King – “The Princess Alaria”

She had long dark hair, matted in thick long strands from the rain.  Naked except for a light blue silk skirt, her tanned skin intensified her beauty.

“My lady.” Kylan said softly, some paces away.

“Stay away!” she screamed in the common tongue but with a thick accent unfamiliar to Kylan, moving back on the rock.

“I mean you no harm.  I heard you crying.  My name is Kylan, Captain of the Frontier Guard of Yaneer.” Kylan said taking his hand off his sword hilt, slightly bowing to her.

“I know you, from our ship.” the woman said softly, than she said something in her native language he didn’t understand.

There was a puzzled look on her face.

She pulled strands of her long black hair from her face  as she rose slowly to her feet.  walked towards Kylan. Kylan’s first impression was that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  Her eyes were deep violet, and her lips were pale crimson, thin and sultry.   Her lashes and brow were the same color as her jet black hair.  She stood shorter than Kylan, and she seemed unashamed of her nakedness before him.  He noticed the thin hoops of gold hanging from her ears, and the jewel encrusted bracelets and anklets she wore.  A slim chain of gold wound around her slender waist, just above the skirt.

“You were brought on board before we left port.  You were unconscious and left on deck at the front of the ship.” she said drawing near to him.

The rain had stopped falling.  He looked away for a moment, confused.

“But, how did I get onboard a ship?  I was in my village, just back from a battle for it’s defense.” Kylan said.

“You, no doubt, were there for the same reason we were.  I am Princess Alaria of the Imorian kingdom of Ibisis.  I, along with my royal ambassadors, were visiting the capital city of  Bryndera in the kingdom of Laegarad.  My father, King Ossa, sought a peaceful alliance with King Respa of Bryndera.”

Alaria took Kylan’s hand and bade him to sit next to her.  She was shivering from the cool damp air, and wet from the rain storm.

“Please, take my tunic, Princess Alaria, you are cold.” Kylan offered, pulling his tunic off himself and helped her to pull it over her head.

Alaria glanced at Kylan’s tan muscular frame, his thick mane of dark brown hair that fell past his shoulders, averting her eyes momentarily to the ground. “You have been kind to me, Kylan.  You may call me Alaria.” she brought her violet gaze up to meet his.

“Please, Alaria, continue.” Kylan urged.

“My father knew King Respa’s father, King Galus, and wished to continue our kingdom’s long standing alliance and trade obligations.  Little did we know of Respa’s treachery until it was too late.  Respa planned on making an alliance by making me his wife.  He knew that if he wed me, he could gain power and influence over my father’s kingdom.  My father has no heirs save me and after my mother died, has been unwilling to wed another, such is the deep love he has for my mother’s memory.” Alaria said, her eyes misty with tears.

“I refused flatly Respa’s proposal and readied my ship to depart for Imoria.  In the night, Respa’s Black Guard took us by force while we were still in port and sailed us to this cursed island.  I surmised Respa couldn’t have me for his own, so he made plans that no one else would have me either.  Before we left, you and many others were also brought onboard, bound and unconscious.  To the nobles of Bryndera, it looked as if our ship sailed for Imoria.  In truth, Respa rid his kingdom of all that would stand in his way, for what ever his treacherous schemes may be.” she looked away towards the beach below them.

“I still don’t understand how I came to be here- I saw no others when I came to on the beach below.” Kylan said, nodding in the direction of the beach.

“Respa’s dogs, the Black Guard,” Alaria spat at the ground, “ tried to take me against my will.  Had it not been for my personal guard, Imrin, who fought bravely in my defense, they would’ve ravaged me.  Imrin was able to hold them at bay after killing the guard assigned to watch him to give us time to leap overboard.  My royal party, sailors, and most of my royal guard all managed to swim for shore.  Imrin’s last act was to burn the main sail before he was in turn cut down by those dogs.  Long will his name be revered in the halls of my father for his bravery.” she looked down at the ground then back at Kylan intently.

“We swam to shore and watched as our ship was pulled by the currents into the rocks and smashed.  You must have fallen overboard and floated to this beach.  Soon after the ship sank, we were set upon by ferocious wolf-like beasts, who killed and captured many of our party.  My ambassadors bade me to swim rather than be taken, so that is how I arrived here.” Alaria shuddered from the memories of recent terrible events.

“My father was a loyal knight in the service of Respa’s father.  After Galus died, Respa had him moved to the frontier lands.  He must have removed me along with the others because he sensed some kind of threat to his rule.” Kylan said.

“I have only met Respa once, when Galus was still alive, at the royal palace.  I did not like his look then, and doubly now that I know of his treacherous ways.  Only the King of the Universe knows what evil lurks in his heart.  Our people regard honor and loyalty above all other virtues.  It seems Respa has stained our reputations with his lack of honor.” Kylan said, shaking his head slowly.

“Will you help me free my people, Kylan?” Alaria looked again deeply into Kylan’s eyes.

“Aye, my lady.  It would be my honor to restore your faith in my people. Let us see if there’s some other way to go around the beach without having to swim again.  I’ve had enough water for a lifetime.” Kylan said as he rose to his feet.

He extended his hand to help Alaria up.  She pulled herself to him in a tight embrace.  The warmth of her body was comforting to Kylan.

“Thank you, Kylan.” she whispered, kissing his cheek softly.

Next installment…”The Laegarad Ship”

Tomb of The Primeval King – “The Raven and The King”

There was a rustling sound nearby that brought Kylan out of his mental recollection. Perched on a rock nearby was a jet black raven.  It stared at him with  eyes that glowed like burning coals.  The raven tilted it’s head to view him better.  Not liking the look of this creature, Kylan picked up a small stone and hurled it at the bird.  It squawked loudly as it flew away.  He watched it momentarily then continued on.  Ahead, he noticed an outcropping of rock and headed towards it.

The mound of black rock on his left sloped upwards above the path.  He followed the slope and stopped when the path came to a sheer cliff that dropped to the undulating ocean below.  To the left, the path became a narrow ledge a little wider than the length of his boot.  He noticed an opening.  Carefully, he slid along the wall, feeling his way around and into the opening.  The opening was actually a hole where an existing wall made of white marble had crumbled away from a collapse of the cliff face into the ocean below.  He stood upright in a dark narrow corridor.  To his left, some type of door way, permanently blocked outside by the black rock that covered and hid it.  To his right, the corridor led further down and sloped deeper into the earth.

He was curious but cautious as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness.  Lightening flashed again, drawing his attention a little further down the corridor.  Thunder in the distance boomed and grew louder.  Heavy drops of rain began to fall outside and fell into the opening by storm blown gusts.  Kylan moved further into the corridor to see where it led.

An eerie green glow emanated from ahead.  The floor sloped downward and was made of the same smooth white marble as the corridor.  His right hand brushed the wall lightly as he made his way towards the source of the light.

The corridor opened up into a large square chamber.  The green glow came from round globes attached all over the walls of the chamber.  The globes pulsed and throbbed.  Kylan eyed them cautiously.

At the center of the room sat a rectangular white marble crypt on a raised dais.  There was another corridor to the right that was dark.  Behind the crypt, there were stacked  jars with inlaid gold, an intricately carved armor stand which had a set of black chain mail gilded and a sword in a jewel incrusted scabbard.

Kylan crept towards the crypt.  It was a smooth, white marble box with ancient symbols and markings carved into it.  A small leather wrapped scroll case rested on the crypt’s lid.  He opened it carefully and unrolled the parchment contained therein under the green light.  In an ancient version of the common tongue, it spoke of the great King Magnus of  Laegarad. 

Kylan had heard tales as a boy of a great king that had united all of the kingdoms under his banner, but that was over a thousand years ago.  He had found the fabled Tomb of the Primeval King.

Much of the scroll contained a language he couldn’t understand, so he rolled the scroll, put it back in the case, and tucked it into his belt.

A scuffling sound grabbed his attention.  It came from the unexplored dark tunnel.  He instinctively grabbed the sword hanging next to him.  The blade was medium length and made of some unknown metal.  A gold lion symbol was inlaid into the blade at the base.  The hilt was covered in deep red leather wrappings.  He tied the scabbard to his waist, and hefted the sword.  It was evenly balanced and felt good in his hand. 

He crept backwards towards the corridor that led him into the chamber.  Then he noticed a black form moving from the shadows of the dark entrance.  The scurrying sound followed its movement to the right.  The greenish glow illuminated a dozen black eyes of a spider the size of a large dog.

It’s long legs bristled with curved sharp hairs.  It moved with incredible speed, leaping to the top of the crypt before Kylan could react.  He was now trapped between the spider and the wall.  The spider clicked it’s fangs together with a gritty sound that made Kylan clench his jaw. 

He didn’t have to see his enemy clearly to know that instant death awaited him should those fangs strike true.  The spider paused upon the tomb rocking up and down as it sized it’s prey up.  Kylan resisted the impulse to flee.  He knew the creature would be upon him the moment he turned his back.

A tense moment passed, then the spider leapt from the crypt, it’s legs and fangs spread wide for the kill.  Kylan brought his sword to bear quickly.  He thrust it between the fangs and up through it’s multiple eyes with a gush of luminescent green blood, letting the momentum of the spider impale itself upon the blade.

The weight of the spider’s fall knocked him back into the wall.  One of the spider’s legs hit a glowing orb to Kylan’s left and the leg hairs tore the orbs flesh-like covering open.  Spiders the size of Kylan’s hands burst forth, crawling out of the glowing slime.  They scurried in all directions. 

Kylan sprang to his feet, wrenching the sword from the dead carcass, being careful not to touch it even in death.  It was covered in the same rank smelling slime as the ooze that spilled from the orb.  He moved towards the tomb’s entrance, watching as the spider’s offspring swarmed over the twitching corpse.  They entered the gaping sword wound in the spider, cannibalistically feasting on the one who gave them life.

Kylan forced back the urge to retch and backed towards the entrance.  At the opening, he carefully made his way along the narrow shelf and back to the path.  Rain water poured down from the rocks above, soaking Kylan. 

There was a loud cracking sound and the white marble stones collapsed into the entrance along with the black rock, cascading down the face of the cliff.  He stepped back watching the entrance cave in upon itself.  He would’ve liked to explore the tomb further to see where the other tunnel led, but it would take many men to clear the entrance and torches to burn the spiders.  He thought to himself that someday he would return and explore the tomb properly, for there may be unknown secrets and riches yet to be had.

Kylan tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of his tunic and carefully wiped the green blood of the spider from the blade, letting the rain wash it completely.    He learned long ago on the borders of the wild lands that the blood of foul creatures still had the power to kill, even in death.  He tossed the rag over the cliff and sheathed the sword.  There was still much to do.  He took a deep breath of the salty air, glad to be out of the tomb, then turned back down the path that led from the beach.

He walked about half the distance back to the beach when he heard a sound like someone crying.  Kylan quickly trotted in that direction, hand on his sword hilt.  He neared the bend in the path that led down towards the beach.  A naked woman sat on a rock outcropping with her arms pulled to her chest sobbing uncontrollably.

The Next Installment…  “The Princess Alaria”

Tomb of The Primeval King – “The Primorians Attack”

Kylan reflected on the battle he fought recently as his right hand touched the long pink scar on his left forearm.  He was astonished that it was mostly healed.  That type of wound would take weeks to heal, even with the herbal balms the village healers coated it with. 

He had been crouching, sword in hand, just outside the fortified village of Yaneer where he and his father lived.  The forest had been cleared a hundred yards in every direction from the fort.  Its walls were made of tall trees stripped of their limbs and fastened together with iron straps.  Nothing could scale these outer defenses without being peppered with arrow shafts from sentries guarding the walls.

Primorians had been spotted by the sentries, and a troop of militia had been sent to investigate outside the safety of the defenses.  Kylan had battled them numerous times and knew of their ability to launch attacks unannounced.  He moved slowly through the undergrowth cautiously and silently.

The air was warm and humid in late spring afternoon.  The grass beneath him was a deep green and soft from recent rains.  His enemies would not hear his footfalls.  The light breeze rustled leaves along the tree line that Kylan was observing.  He squinted his deep green eyes in the mid-day sun.  Something caught his eye.

A slight movement ahead of him, imperceptible to one who had not grown up in the frontier lands where dangers lurked constantly.  He tightened his grip on his sword and moved forward slowly.  The sentries above him had their bows in hand as well, scanning the woody canopy before them, shouting along the wall to each other of what they saw.

Kylan heard a feint sound like a breath being inhaled.  His muscles tensed and his heart pounded in his chest.  The green foliage before him exploded.  A Primorian burst forth at him with a mighty roar.  Simultaneously, the twang of arrows from the sentries could be heard from behind him and more shouts.  Kylan leapt to ground on his left, rolling and coming back up on his feet to face his attacker.

Other Primorians rushed the fort, and the militia solders rushed into combat all along that section of fortified wall.  Inhuman roars filled the air as the ape-like creatures flung themselves into the fray.  The deadly whistle of arrows overhead mingled with the shouts of men.

Kylan took a defensive stance, sword readied to strike.  The Primorian had cleared the greenery and avoided the arrows of the sentries.  It circled around in an arc on all fours with a tiger-like quickness away from him then back towards him.  Clods of earth and grass flew outward from its powerful wake, and arrows thudded into the ground behind it.  It’s long black fur shimmered with each powerful movement.  The shaggy head could easily be mistaken for a man at a great distance.  But Kylan knew this creature was not a man.

The Primorian pulled upright on two massive clawed feet.  The beast stood eight feet tall, and it’s thick body rippled with the strength many times that of any of the strongest men in the village.  It beat it’s chest with equally massive clawed hands and let out a blood curdling roar that caused the hair on the back of Kylan’s neck to stand on end.

It’s red eyes glared at Kylan with fury and inhuman savagery.  It roared at him again, it’s huge jaw brimming with fang-like teeth.  Strings of gooey saliva dripped to the ground as its nostrils flared . 

Kylan pushed forward, a battle cry resounding from deep within his lungs.  The blood of generations of mighty warriors coursed through his veins.  He would met his enemy with equal savagery, bold and unafraid.  Kylan’s sword flashed like lightening, cleaving the beast’s left arm from it’s body with his powerful stroke.

The Primorian roared in pain, turning to swipe him with it’s massive right hand.

Kylan instinctively dodged to the right, but the beast’s claws dug into the chain mail bracer on his left arm.  It hooked the straps and tore away the bracer in a spray of red,  gashing him deeply.  Pain registered in Kylan’s mind as the force of the strike knocked him back off his feet.

Blood lust drove the Primorian on.  It repaid pain for pain, blood for blood.

Kylan rolled to his feet and ducked a back handed swing that filled the space where his head was a breath before.  He thrust upwards, his sword entering its chest near its heart and bursting from the beast’s back.  The Primorian grabbed Kylan by the neck, lifting him from the ground.

Kylan kept the sword buried into it’s chest and braced himself with his left arm against the beast’s right arm.  Claws tightened around his neck.  Kylan grimaced in the terrible grip and struggled against it with all his might to keep conscious.

The beast pulled Kylan closer, and with another terrible roar, bit down on Kylan’s shoulder.  The chain mail vest and leather beneath protected him from mortal harm, but the pain of the pinching jaws caused Kylan to let out a gasp.  Determination and adrenaline surged through Kylan as brought his feet up to the hairy midsection for leverage.  Grunting under the strain of exertion, he pushed with all his might.

The mortal would Kylan inflicted upon the beast were weakening it.  Both Kylan and his sword were flung backwards, free of the Primorian‘s death grip.  He hit the ground and rolled, springing back up to his feet, his chest heaving as he labored to fill his lungs with air.  Deep red marks covered his neck from the clawed hands that had him in their death grip. He slung the dark blood from his blade and turned to face the beast.  The Primorian clutched at the wound on its chest.  Life pumped out of the chest wound and spurted out of the arm stump weaking with each heart beat.

Succumbing to its injuries, it slumped down to it’s knees.  Then the massive right arm fell to the ground propping it up.  It eyed Kylan with evil hatred.  With it’s remaining strength, it let out another shuddering roar.  Kylan struck, quickly delivering the death blow.  His sword severed the Primorian’s head from neck.  The skull hit the ground before the body with a hollow thud.  Long rivulets of blood ran down his blade and dripped onto the green grass.  He stared down at the lifeless creature’s glazed red eyes only for a moment, a smirk on his face.

The noise of his comrades furious fighting rang in his ears.  The battle was far from over, but that night he would share this tale with his brothers in arms during their victory feast.

Next Installment… “The Raven and The King”

Tomb of The Primeval King – “The Black Beach”

Kylan jolted awake suddenly.  At first, he thought he was dreaming. Salty air, the sounds of waves and ocean, but the cold wet sand beneath him was real enough.  Rising slowly to his feet to find his bearings, Kylan let the throbbing in his head subside before taking a step forward.

Waves crashed angrily against the beachhead.  Course black sand surrounded him like a sheet of darkness. He was on some desolate volcanic island unfamiliar to him.

Running a tanned hand through his soggy brown mane of hair, he eyed his surroundings more with suspicion than fear.  He lightly touched the painful lump at the base of his skull. Just a bump, nothing more.

He brushed the black sand from his soft brown leather pants, of the style worn by the men in his wooded homeland, and wrung sea water from his loose cotton tunic.  The air was cool and damp, and the skies above him were dark and foreboding.

As he looked inland, a sheer cliff rose to his right and to the left.  Directly ahead, the black beach narrowed and became a path that curved sharply upwards, disappearing to the left.  There wasn’t a sign of vegetation as far as he could see- just jagged black rock.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

With another glance at the darkening skies approaching from over the ocean, Kylan decided to see where the path led.

He followed the path as it wound its way upwards, and eventually he was looking down at his footprints on the beach.  From this vantage point, he could see to the his left, the cliff rose higher than where he stood, becoming some sort of mountain chain.  To the right along the shore line, he could see wooden kegs and debris that were scattered amongst the rocks at the edges of the beach.  The path continued away from the ocean, so Kylan turned and continued to follow it.

A strong breeze whipped at his tunic and hair from behind him.  The storm was drawing near. He could sense it on the air and quickened his pace.  His mind wandered while he walked as he tried to make sense of how he got where he was.

To him, it seemed that just moments ago he was placing his sword and armor on their stand in his father’s cabin.  The Primorians had attacked their village outpost on the northern edge of the kingdom of Laegarad.

The bestial ape-like race was a constant threat to all of the civilized lands of the continent of Panantaea.

Next installment… “The Primorians Attack”

Dancing With The Doggy By The Pale Nightlight

If you kill joe, make some mo!

I got myself ready this morning for work, groggy and extremely tired.  Yesterday was a pretty long day for me with a double-shift that ended with 25 hours without sleep by the time I got home.  My body just shut down at 7:30pm last night, and I slept all the way to 4:00am this morning when my cell phone alarm went off.

Body stiff, eyes half open, I went through the ususal morning routine.  Nice hot shower, shave, uniform on, making coffee.  There was a small batch of chicken noodle soup left over from a crockpot full I made on Monday night, so that got packed up for lunch today.

Coffee in my right hand, a Rubbermaid container and a small pocket Moleskine I planned on using to take notes for my blog entries in my left, I headed out of the kitchen and towards the garage.

My eyes weren’t used to the darkness of the hallway, and I could only make out the door leading out to the garage…my target.  My thoughts were on not spilling the coffee cup I carried by the rim with my right hand.

I could make out one of Breezy’s tennis balls laying in the middle of the hall in the pale nightlight.  This I avoided to the left.

I passed our bedroom where Brandee was getting ready for work.

I passed Izzy’s bedroom where she would sleep soundly until some late hour in the morning when zombie teenagers wake up.

Only Ben’s room to pass then the garage door out from the laundry room.

Ah, success!  Coffee still unspilled. Only one more door to open then I can enjoy the ride into work with a hot cup of joe.

I just got to Ben’s door when my left work boot caught on something on the floor.  Too late.  I felt my body pitch to the right as I went off balance.

I brought my right foot down quickly to counterbalance.  I realized it landed on something soft, not the solid feel of the carpeted floor.  My first instinct was to put my right hand down to brace for impact.  I realized both my hands were full. I was committed to the free-fall in the dark.  Something moved from underneath me just as I crashed into the floor.  Something wet splashed up on my right arm behind my shoulder, then I heard the crash of a coffee mug and my soup container against the door in the darkness in front of me.

I let out a gutteral “UH!” as I hit the floor prostrate like a pancaked frog in the middle of the road.

Ben asked if I was ok from the darkness of his room.  He mention something about seeing me fall.  My mind took a second to reboot.  I felt my hands find the carpet and my arms responded to push me up.

“Yeah, I think I’m ok.  F-ing dog.”

Breezy high-tailed it for the living room.  She mis-understood my exclamation.  I wasn’t angry with her.  Dogs lay where they lay.  My body stiff from the double-shift and my swan dive in the dark, I slowly got to my feet to survey the damage.

The coffee cup was a gonner.  It hit the floor and door to the garage and lay in broken pieces.  A gift from Brandee’s cousin Rachael not too long after B and I got married.  It had a cartoon of a polar bear with sunglasses on it with the caption “One Cool Guy”.

Ya, I’m really cool at tripping over a sleeping dog and waking everyone up.  I soaked up the coffee with a dish towel, checked to make sure my lunch was still intact, which it was, and shook off the adreneline.  I went out to the living room to make sure Breezy was ok.

Our 130lb 7-year old golden retriever was ok.  I couldn’t be angry at my big Wookie about something that wasn’t her fault.  She got a big hug from me and told her I wasn’t angry with her.  Breezy gave me that wide doggy smile and licked at the coffee on my arm.

I could hear Brandee’s words echoing in my head… “Sucker!”

Look Ma, I played the gee-tar: http://goo.gl/doodle/UtV3

Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse?

The Zombie Apocalypse.  The post-modern futuristic apocalyptic vision of humanity’s doom.

Past generations had dragons, witches, vampires, and other mythical creatures to represent their fears, we have zombies.

In 1968, director and visionary George Romero, created a tale of humanity under siege from undead hordes of corpses that rose from the grave.  He has said in interviews that his movie was a statement about the turbulent ’60s.

What he didn’t foresee was that he created the perfect vehicle to encapsulate all of our hopes in one moment then erase them in the next.

For me though, the thought of the zombies attacking an unsuspecting populace mirrors the many fears of our modern age and it’s uncontrollable tangents.

Global pandemics, terrorism, nuclear threats, starvation, civil unrest, natural  and man-made disasters are all under the surface of our day-to-day lives, especially after 9/11 with it’s horrific events broadcasted around the world live from New York.

The subconscious mind can also bring fears into our dreams. I’ve written down many that I’ve had during times of intense stress and unknowns in my life.  Vivid and realistic, zombies in my dreams represented that uncontrollable force in my waking life.  The thing I can’t control or change, and my response to overcome it through actions I take in my dreams.

My daughter is convinced the dead will rise and that she will be able to survive the zombie apocalypse better that most.  If the zombie apocalypse were to ever happen, as far fetched and improbable it sounds, a lot of things would happen in a lot of ways we wouldn’t have control over.

A lot of people would get “turned” just from not understanding what was going on.  A friend gets infected, turns, and bites.  Game over.

First responders most likely will got down the fastest. Ambulance pulls up to assist an infected person. Both responders are bitten while strapping the patient to a gurney.  Game over.

Armed forces, militias, and gun toting wackos will survive the longest, providing they have shelter, food, water, and ammo. Lots of ammo.

The rest of us are at the mercy of our own wits.

Can we bring ourselves to finish off an infected loved one with the back of a shovel, no mater how young or old, before they feast on our flesh?

Do we have the survival skills and mindset to make it days without food or shelter with minimal sleep?

Is there a way we can make it out of that building surrounded by hordes of undead with only three bullets left?

Will we be able to bring ourselves to make our way around wrecked and abandoned automobiles in that unlighted tunnel that crosses the river in the hopes we’ll find shelter and safety?

Would we ever find some sort of normal life amidst the groaning, rotting, animated corpses seeking night and day to devour our warm flesh.

There are too many things that could go wrong for most people to survive the infected zombie fueled blood-orgy.  So I’ll disagree with my daughter on her being able to survive longer than me.  In the zombie apocalypse, everyone ultimately has to fend for themselves.  The score is in the favor of the enemy.  Millions to one.

Will you survive the Zombie Apocalypse?

Take Me Home

While working on setting pave stones for a side walk I’m making on the side of my house, I heard the song “Take Me Home” by Phil Collins on my iPod.  I added it awhile back when I copied a bunch of my wife’s CDs over to my play list.

As I sifted rock and sand, leveling ground, and setting pave stones, I wondered why I like this song so much.  Why is my favorite song?  Why does is speak to my soul?

I find a deeper and different meaning in this song.  My parents divorced when I was about 7 years old.  My life was turned upside down.  Both sides remarried and did their best to pull me in their opposing directions with half-truth and vindictiveness towards each other dividing instead of uniting.  All of the stress and turmoil led to a child psychologist, a difficult time making new friends, with my childhood full of loneliness and uncertainty as I was moved from from place to place as they rebuilt their lives while mine remained broken.

On the surface, “Take Me Home” touches that loss of the sense of “home” in me.  So many years have passed and connecting with relatives in a close way has been difficult.  Most times I feel closer to my in-laws, who have treated me as if I were their own son, unconditionally loving me.

I guess that separation and feeling of loss as a child never left me, even at 42 years old, and this song makes a subtle connection to those memories and emotions.  Just as a cut on our skin heals, there’s a scar left to remind us of the pain and loss we felt.  Emotions can be the same way.  We can have something emotionally traumatic that happens in our lives and even though time heals the wound, we are left with a scar to remind us of where we were and how far we’ve come from that point in our past to where we are now.

The scar that I carry affects me in different ways.  Most of the time it is centered around interpersonal relationships and trust- then everything I knew and counted on changed, it’s difficult to trust those around me.  This song reminds me of how my life revolves around my wife and children, whom I love dearly and work as hard as I can to support them the best I can. I’m a simple man who works hard and likes the simple things in life.  Good food, family, time to myself, faith and spirituality.

“Take Me Home” touches my soul because it makes a connection to that part of me that’s still a child – still wants to just go home to a time in my life of carefree wonder.  It makes me think about the gaps in my current happiness, with work and with things beyond my control each day.  I feel the sharp pain of being ignored by those who I meet in life whose only focus is on their own happiness over the well-being of others.

Then I think of how far I’ve come.  I care about more than myself.  Faith has filled the emptiness and my life is full and with purpose.  I think about today and tomorrow, forgetting the past and looking towards the future.  Then I realize this song helps to heal that scar as much as expose it.

Isn’t that what music is supposed to do?