Forging of a Knight: Rise of the Slavekeepers

Chapter 10

“The spirits that reside in these trees cry out in anguish,” Bartholomew said sadly, touching the silently shrieking images. A foul smell of rot began to permeate the area. The ground was becoming mired with oily excretions, suffocating animals that had become caught in its amber-like embrace. Yellow mists that stank of death floated around the corrupted scene.

“This place is like the Limblost Swamp when we felled the drachna!” Euric gasped, attempting to breathe.

“The touch of Those That Stand in Shadow is easy to identify,” Bartholomew said.

The slimy ground suckered at their feet, straining to keep them still. The calls of birds and beasts had been silenced. Jesepha lost her balance, grabbing hold of the side of a tree trunk. She gagged in disgust as her hand sank into its body, as soft as molasses.

“They change the world into that of their evil heritage,” Qualtan remarked as he assisted in pulling Jesepha free.

“And there is our fate beneath them. Look!” Eric said. He pointed to a line of skeletons in rusting suits of armor. They had been skewered by long metal spikes driven into the melting ground.

“The former Sargossians that attempted to remove the Dark One,” Qualtan said. The horrific reminders grew in number. Everywhere they could look was a mangled body impaled upon a giant stake. They passed through the scene, eyeing the unmoving forms.

“Fear. They use this to strike fear in any who dare to venture in this place. That is their greatest weapon…” Bartholomew muttered.

“And put to good use here. What person would dare to pass through this dire warning?” Jesepha said, staring at the grinning, fleshless faces that peered up at her.

“Only madmen like us,” Euric said.

They struggled on, pulling through the thick, pudding-like mire. Qualtan took note that while Euric and Jesepha seemed to falter, Bartholomew grew in strength, moving speedily ahead of the rest, his eyes squarely fixated on their path. Thus, they were able to clearly see what happened next. The elder knight, sword held out before him, struck something. He yelped as a bolt of energy cascaded through his form, throwing him to the ground. The others quickly reached him.

“What is it, what happened?” Euric said, as Bartholomew was brought back to his feet.

“I don’t know. I hit something!” Bartholomew said, clearing his head.

Indeed, and I think I know what it is.” Qualtan went forward, slowly prodding the air with his sword.

“Be careful!” Jesepha warned.

The tip of his sword made contact with something unseen. The weapon crackled and Qualtan quickly withdrew it. Looking about, he found a moldering branch half-buried in the ooze. He threw it high at the empty space before him, avoiding it as it bounced back through the air.

“A spell!” Euric said.

“A magical barrier. My uncle told me of such enchanted shields used by Those That Stand in Shadow. My father and he came across such a resistance when they captured one of the last remaining Dark Ones. And just to be sure…” Grimacing with repulsion, Qualtan snapped free one of the bobbling skull heads that watched their efforts. He threw it into the sky, watching it go upwards, curving, angling, and eventually falling opposite the barrier that faced them.

“We can’t jump over that!” Euric said.

“I have heard of such things, but never encountered one. What must we do?” Bartholomew said.

Qualtan began focusing on his sword. “My uncle’s magicks were able to save them that day. A horde of humanoids had attempted to trap them. My father was forced to defend his brother until he could secure their escape. My sword may do it, but I think I will need your help.”