The sun had reached it's zenith, and waves of heat emanated from the sandwaves below. Sudden gusts of wind twirled small sandclouds into the air, and Nathan had to squint his eyes shut when they hit him with the whole ferocity of the Kallaha. He knew he was off course, the winds had forced him too far to the east, and he knew he would have to double back once the wind settled. He had been aiming for the Sandstorm Port, or B'ahal Bäe among the locals, but the constant gusts of wind that kept hitting him had forced him off the route and into a harsh, wild part of the desert. Nate almost felt as if he was driven by the winds to a deliberate point, as if the desert, or some other sentient power steered him onwards.
The latest cloud of sand suddenly cleared and Nate gazed down onto a bleak part of the desert, where jagged stones protruded from the sands like jagged blades. In the center of the stones, he spotted a large flock of scavangers, mostly desertcrows but also the canny desertfoxes that dug holes in the dunes. They were having a feast on some poor creature, and Nathan's interest was triggered. He slowly descended among them, and when his mighty shadow entered the flock, they scattered in wild panic, exposing a human body, or what was left of it.
Nathan expertly landed, folding his huge wings on his back in order to regain his ground balance, then crouched down to examine the corpse. The man, Nathan was almost certain it had been a man, lay on his belly, face buried in the sand. What appeared to be expensive silken robes covered him from head to feet, but the corpse lacked the common sandals and the belt, someone had looted him after he'd been murdered. Nathan didn't for a second doubt that the man had in fact been murdered, since four blackshafted arrows protruded from the back the back of the corpse in harsh evidence. The silken robes had been torn to pieces by the scavengers, and large chunks of flesh had been ripped from the body, exposing ribs and bones. Nathan didn't flinch though, he had seen this and worse before. He bit back a curse, and turned the corpse over in order to examine it more closely. He felt compelled to at least do that much for the poor victim. A stream of curses that would have made a sailor blush came from Nathan's mouth as he saw the withered, leathery face of Graven Warwick, the gem-merchant and the father of Karen, Lomin's girlfriend. He had heard her worried talk with Lomin about her father, and now he knew the reason of her father's absence.
"For the Love of it!" Nathan growled savagely as he let the man settle back down in the sand. He squatted down on his hunches and started to think it through. 'If this was regular waylayers work, the body wouldn't be lying in this remote spot, leagues from the nearest road, no, this must have been deliberate, planned.' He also managed to think that it was strange that the perpetrators hadn't buried the victim, with all the sand and rocks around.
Nathan didn't get any further before his enhanced senses recognised distant sounds of hushed voices coming closer. Nathan reacted on instincts, throwing himself back in cover of one of the rocks that rose close by. In the cover of the rock, Nathan carefully scanned the area and soon he spotted large black-cowled creatures came into view from among the rocks. They numbered close to ten he judged quickly, and one in the lead scolded the ones behind him with a savage, guttural voice.
" Imbecils! I didn't say slay the betrayer and leave him here, did I? I said you were supposed to get rid of him, and he's not rid of, is he?" None of the figures behind the first made any replies to that, they just kept walking closer until they all stood in a ring around the dead man. The leader removed his hood, exposing the weathered face of a native desertdweller, but as the rest followed suit, Nathan's hackles rose. The rest of the party exposed lifeless, grayish skin, some fast in decay, and their eyes all shone with a dull redish light. Undead! Nathan's fists clenched into balls, his nails digging deep into his palms, and he could feel blood trickling down his fingers. Nathan judged the time for waiting was over, and knew he couldn't wait to let them perform whatever ritual they were planning to commense any further, and he slowly rose. His right hand found the pommel of his sword, and with a careful pull, he drew it out from the scabbard that was strapped on his back, between the wings. As if aided by an unseen force, a new sudden gust of winds rushed in from beyond the rocks, masking the sound of steel against steel. He thought this would be a close thing, and he knew he would have to go for the leader first. With luck, he was controlling the rest by magic. If he did, then they would either return to the realm beyond from wence they had been pulled, or at least become chaotic and maybe turn on one another.
With a bellow, Nathan threw himself into their midst, giving two mighty yanks with his powerful wings to gain momentum. He struck the leader like a juggernaut, propelling the man more than forty yards backwards, and he hit one of the huge rocks with a dull thud, then sunk to the sand below. Nathan didn't stop to watch that though, he was busy fencing with the undead, who frigtheningly fast had produced wicked-looking blades from within their black robes, attacking as if one. The sound of steel against steel was the only sound that broke the peace and quiet of the desert, no grunts, no screams of pain or anger. Not even Nathan let his emotions run the events, his self-control and discipline was astounding.
Nathan blocked a savage thrust from one of the undead, and riposted with a heart-piercing thrust that went straight through, severing the spine on it's way through the back. The undead sagged to the ground, and Nathan's sword was yanked from his sweaty hands. A rock-shattering blow then landed on Nathan's back, and he flew forward, straight into the arms of another of his enemies. The blow had shattered some ribs, but Nathan had no time to even flinch from the pain, as two of the undead threw themselves at him from behind. Nathan was wrestling three of the undead, and managed to get a grip on the jaw of the one he had hit from the blow that threw him forward. He yanked, using his draconic might, and the decayed flesh couldn't withstand it, the whole head came off in a cascade of decayed fluids that sprayed Nathan's face and chest. When next Nathan felt rotten teeth sink into his neck from behind, he lost his expertly held control, loosing himself to the draconic wrath. With a gargantuan yank, he threw the biter into a nearby rock, and then he turned on the rest. A thundering bellow escaped his lungs as he ran straight into the remaining undead, whirling his arms like schythe. His flurry of blows hammered the undead into butchered meat, he was unstoppable, he was pure wrath, and he spread mayhem among his enemies.
Suddenly it was over, nothing stirred, and Nate crouched down panting. His conscious slowly returned, and with it the pain. He could feel himself to be in a bad shape, and he saw that he bled from both bites as well as cuts, from ankle to pate, a bloody mess. He sighed and flinched from the pain that that caused, a broken rib must have pierced a lung. 'amnit, this had not gone as planned!' He thought, and then he suddenly felt the building of arcane power close by. Nate quickly looked up, with another flinch of pain and immediately spotted the leader, standing by the rock Nathan had thrown him into, smiling. Nathan's hand unconsciously grasped the hilt of his sword, which had somehow found it's way back into his hands, and he managed to grin back at the mage.
" It must be hard, knowing that all the effort and the pain has been for naught! I won't be quick, dragonling, oh no! I like to take things slowly, hee, hee, hee!" The mage had begun a weave Nate didn't recognize, but he could feel it was malign, and he quickly raised a magical shield around himself. The enemy mage barked a harsh laugh, then spoke again as his hands continued to make the intricate weave he was spinning. " The Witch is ours, nothing you and your likes will do can change that, her soul will be ours, there is no sanctuary! " The mage unleashed sickly waves of chaotic power towards Nate, who threw up his last defense, his divine warhammer, imbued with the powers to withstand the curse, and holy flames erupted around it as the wicked waves hit it. A battle within the battle raged around the warhammer for a few minutes, and Nathan felt himself being driven back into the sand by the powers that raged in front of him. With a loud weese, the powers dimmed out, and Nathan found himself looking at an astonished mage. "It cannot be!" he studdered, while Nathan slowly rose, discarding the hammer in favour of his sword. "Yes it can, foul mage!" Nathan said, then took two fast strides and expertly decapitated the mage with a backhand slash.
A few hours later, a mighty figure could be seen flying north, a small bundle in his arms. In the rocky patch of the desert, from where the figure had just taken off, a small brimstone had been erected in memory of Graven Warwick. The text that had been carved into the flat stone read 'Here lies a man that found the light at the end. May he rest in peace in the halls of the Fallen'.
_________________
|