EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN series
Hi all,
On this thread I'd like to show-off some of my writing. These are excerpts from a current series of Stories that I am working on titles "The Adventures of Cimmerian"
The full versions of these tales, rated PG13 are posted at fictionpress.com. Feel free to check them out at leisure.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN series
The Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Two
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EXCERPT ONE
Chapter Six - Strongarm of Iglim
Cimmerian woke up to the sound of loud voices and and clanging of metal. His hands and legs were shackled with heavy iron chains. His weapons had been taken away. With a savage roar he jumped up and thrashed about as his captors leered at him through iron bars. He was secured in the back area of some kind of arena. Loud roars of voices could be heard inbetween intervals of the sonic boom of steel against steel.
"You go on next, wild barbarian," snorted a foul smelling man. He was tall and stout, attired in a bearskin with steel gauntlets. He carried a whip, which he cracked at Cimmerian.
"Slaver!" spat the barbarian as he glared at the man.
"Silence, animal fodder... or I shall have you flogged before your fight," the man bellowed.
Cimmerian swung his heavy chains, slamming them against the iron bars.
"That won't do you any good, fool! Prepare yourself for you are going to make a fine plaything for my precious."
Cimmerian's savage heart beat faster as rage consumed his mind. All those years in the slave ships came rushing into his mind. As he was about to hurl himself with all his mustered might at the leering slaver, the doorway on the other side of the bars opened and bright light streamed in and flooded the cell.
The man in the bearskin laughed and yelled, "Give them a good show, hillbred scum."
Cimmerian stepped out gingerly into the brightness, half expecting to be ambushed as he shielded his eyes from the glare. The roar of voices grew louder with every step he took. He walked out and found himself in a vast sand floored arena. He stood raising his hands over his head to shield the bright sunlight that reflected off the high mud baked walls.
Seated all around were the people of Nurzat, roaring to their hearts content. Cimmerian cursed himself for picking the day of a tournament to enter the city. Looking up he saw Iglim seated beside what looked like a huge, quivering mass of fat and jewellery. King Oshkash roared as loud as his people. They had been waiting with bated breath for the main event of the day. The test of the legendary strength of a Northern Barbarian. Two swarthy men walked beside Cimmerian as he stumbled onward and kept prodding him with sharpend sticks whenever his footfalls faltered.
He was paraded around the entire circumferance of the arena before a blacksmith cut loose the shackles from his feet.
"And what of these?" the barbarian asked, holding out his shackled hands, as the heavy chain between them hung to his feet.
"They stay on, northern barbarian. Arena rules." replied the armourer with a shrug.
Cimmerian was in a good mind to swing the chain into the two men who tormented him but paused when a loud, bloodchilling roar erupted from the other side of the arena. A door flew open and a large dark mass of fur and claws charged out. Streaks of blood smeared over its dark fur showed that the great bear had been tortured to awaken its fighting spirit. The animal was hellbent to take its agony out on anything near and its dark, savage eyes settled on the young barbarian as the other men hurriedly fled from the arena floor.
At first the immense mass and strength of the animal simply bowled Cimmerian over as it hurled itself at him. It's savage jaws snapping with such ferocity that it threatened to bite the barbarian's head clean off. Cimmerian waited for the perfect moment and then threw himself at the beast. He swung the heavy chain and smashed the bear across the face. But merely striking at the great beast only angered it further without doing much damage and Cimmerian knew he had to make a far more potent weapon out of the chain that shackled his hands together.
Throwing the chain over the bear's head, he burried himself into its agonising embrace. His veins close to bursting, Cimmerian weathered out the bear's bone crushing might. The barbarian's primary concern was to keep his head as far away from the great jaws of his monsterous foe as he used all his strength to bury himself further into the dark fur as he tightened his grip on the chain. The heavy iron dug into the animal's back, further infuriating the enraged beast. But Cimmerian held on, even as the chain took its toll on his bleeding wrists, his intent was to squeeze the life out of this great bruin. An astonishing sight this, to the thrilled spectators of the arena of Nurzat; a mightily thewed bronzed barbarian standing toe to toe with a towering great bear.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Two
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EXCERPT TWO
Chapter Eight - Bargains and such
Cimmerian stormed into the lavish room after Vanima and found her lying sprawled across his bed. The sweet aroma of a mild flowery perfume wafted around her. She smiled at him seductively and wriggled around on the velvet sheets. Cimmerian stood over her, mightyly thewed arms on his hips, like a brooding volcano about to erupt.
"Get off the bed!" His voice was cold and hard.
"But my husband, it is my duty to share your bed." she smiled, batting her dark eye lashes.
"I am not your husband."
"Ohhh... come now, great warrior!" she purred, rising up and slithering across his imposing frame.
Cimmerian roughly grabbed her by her lustrous, golden tresses and snarled into her prettily adorned face, "What game are you playing, witch?"
"Oh!" she stammered, loosing her composure at being manhandled, "It ... it is no game, I assure you..."
"How did you acquire such finery?" Cimmerian demanded, "When I last saw you, you were in rags."
"I earned them," she blubbered.
"Lies!" Cimmerian growled, "Unless you have taken up the ways of Nashtur's children, someone has been ensnared by your charms."
"Oh no, I beseech you, Barbarian," Vanima implored, tears now readily streaming down her face, "do not think of me as a woman of the streets... I am of high birth in Xedhel..."
"Aye! That I can well see, from your beauty and vanity," Cimmerian said dryly.
"Do not judge me so, Barbarian. I have been through world of hell these last few days... first at the hands of the lecherous swines of Zumihr and now here in Nurzat, I have had to pay for my life with my body. These fine robes you see me wear are of a merchant to whom I have to render certain favours. He holds me captive and I see you as my only saviour.
"And it is not mere vanity that I profess," Vanima expressed, gesturing with her hands to drive home her point, "it is more to that I have a great self-image in some areas but not in others... as where I am really vain when it comes to how I look, because I know I have good looks. Men have fought over me... as did you. I know I must be smart as well to play men off eachother, but... I sometimes have trouble showing what I know... I sometimes have my own way without thinking of the others..."
Cimmerian looked around impatiently as the emotionally exuberant woman babbled on. He paced around like a caged animal, padding the floor noisily.
"I am indeed sorry to be pouring my heart out on you, brave warrior! I know you must feel like strangling me. I felt like chastising myself after my display outside on the street. As I walked away from you I was thinking, 'Oh my Goddess, Mystra! What have I gotten myself into now?' and I think I may have... mmpphhh!" Vanima's bright blue eyes widened in shock as Cimmerian roughly crushed his lips against her open mouth, his tongue hungrily probed for and sought out hers. His encompassing embrace lifted her off her feet, his rippling sinews squeezing into the woman's soft, well toned body. A feeling of suffocation overcame the Xuphirian as the young barbarian clamped down his teeth on her rosebud red lips. She threw her arms around him, not certain wether to push him away or to hold on tight.
Suddenly Cimmerian let go and she fell backwards on to the bed, gasping for air. She lay there with a dazed look and silly smile on her face.
"I believe that should shut her up for a while," laughed Cimmerian and lay down beside her. As she lifted her head quizzically to look at him, Cimmerian was breathing evenly, deep in sleep. Vanima sat up, even more confused now as she pondered on what the babrarian's intentions were.
"Mmmm... that was nice, but I must not let this sway me. He is a savage warrior, and a man afterall. I must use him discreetly to my advantage." She thought as she stretched herself out beside the sprawled mercenary.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Two
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EXCERPT THREE
Chapter Ten - The Hole on the Hill
The next day, after the pathetic excuse for a meal was served up to the prisoners, a loud ruckus was heard from down the corridor. A new prisoner was being escorted toward their cell, and he seemed to be in no mood to come quietly. Loud voices and the clanging od metal echoed through the dark hallways. Every inmate in their cell waited in anticipation, some of them even paled in fear.
This new prisoner, Gayalona noticed was a man of immense proportions and it took nearly six armed men to restrain him, even though he was heavily shackled and chained. In the dim light, all she could make out were silhouettes. But even still the imposing shadowed figure seemed familiar. As he was roughly pushed into the cell, he swung his massive chained arms and caught one of the escorting guards, splitting his skull immediately.
The other's fell upon the prisoner rapidly, raining down heavy blows with their wooden clubs.
"Leave this one's shackles on," snarled the leader of the guards, "And give him no food or drink."
"Aye, captain!" replied the warden, as he slammed the cell door shut and locked it.
The two men walked away, as the rest of the guards carried away thier slain comrade. The new prisoner lay in a bloodied heap in the corner where the guards threw him, groaning softly as unconsciousness began to overcome him. The other prisoners in the cell, around a dozen or so wretched souls, moved and huddled into the opposite side of the cell, clearly unwilling to get in the way of their new gargantuan cell mate.
Gayalona stood up, in two minds at what to do, she gingerly stepped towards the fallen man, who lay facing the wall with his broad back to them.
"Are you insane, woman," whispered an older inmate, as she took a step forward, "He appears to be some kind of ruthless mercenary, who opposed the might of Ahqousha."
"I think I may know who he is." Gayalona muttered, but more so to assure herself than anyone else.
"Be careful, Gayalona!" Moruma whispered, as she watched her new friend from the corner.
The novitiate gingerly reached out and placed her hand on the man's shoulder, he shuddered slightly. She quickly withdrew but reached out again just as soon. Gently caressing his well, muscled arm, she tried to turn him to face her. No easy task as his imposing bulk seemed unmoveable. Then he stirred and slowly turned upon his back. Gayalona gasped at the sight of his face.
"Hail priestess," the man smiled weakly, as his weary eyes blinked at the pale light, "Is this the heaven you promised?"
Gayalona composed herself and proceeded to wipe away the dried blood off the man's face. "What did you do to get here, barbarian?" she muttered to herself.
"I slew the commander of the Ahqoushan patrol in Xantala... and all his men." Cimmerian roared, waving his arms wildly as he tried to rise. Gayalona steadied him, "I knew they'd brong..er.. bring you here... to this hell-hole on the hill..."
"But why, why did you do that to get here?" Gayalona asked in perplexion.
"Why, to help you get out... what else?" Cimmerian laughed and fell back into a state of unconsciousness.
"Oh beloved Mystra," Gayalona cried, "Only you can help us now, Goddess!"
Moruma crawled out of her corner and stood behind Gayalona, her trembling hands grasping the novitiate's soiled robes.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Two
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EXCERPT FOUR
Chapter Fourteen - Over the mountains and far away
A day had passed as the four travelers brought their horses to a halt by the foothills of the imposing mountain of rock and mud known as Isdon Amihn, the Wizards Keep. It rose horizontally from a plain that was miles of desert like arid wastes, and was surrounded by much smaller hills from all around. People feared these lands and only the most foolhardy dared to tread near. The sky above them had a pale, greenish-yellow gloom all around, as if a great calm before a storm loomed over them.
Then suddenly a blinding light flashed on the high peak of the mountain, flooding the horizon in dazzling brightness. All three horses reared up in fear, dropping their riders onto the hard stony ground as a bright flash exploded right in front of them next. An old, white haired man, tall and thin, reached out and grabbed Gayalona. Then with rasping laughter that echoed around all of them, he disappeared in a similar fashion to his arrival, taking Mystra's novitiate with him.
"Crom's Devils!" Cimmerian exploded, "It's that self-same wizard I had slain in Feruna...."
"Nashtur preserve us, what are we going to do?" shrieked Moruma.
"This place is cursed... remaining here is folly!" croaked Iglim, "Quick let us leave and never set foot here again."
"Aye, Iglim!" Cimemrian nodded, "I entrust you to escort Moruma safely to Xedhel, I will catch up with you as soon as I get Gayalona."
"What... you cannot possibly go after her into the dreaded Wizards Keep!" exclaimed the Darewi as Moruma looked on fearfully.
But the look of determination that Iglim beheld in the steel blue eyes of the barbarian told him that no amount of persuasion could deter Cimmerian.
"Go on ahead, go now!" Cimmerian urged Iglim and Moruma as he turned his steely gaze upward. The only direct route to the summit was a narrow pathway, scarcely wide enough for one man at a time to traverse. Cimmerian surveyed the pathway with wary eyes, for he knew that if he were the old wizard, he'd be able to defend that path indefinitely even with nothing more for weaponry than cascading rocks.
The path was too perilous, and besides since when had a hill-bred barbarian ever needed a well-worn trail in order to make his way up a craggy cliff?
Cimmerian had climbed a few hundred yards upward when suddenly an avalanche of rocks and boulders came hurtling down toward him. Deftly managing to avoid the falling rocks, Cimmerian clawed his way to a narrow ledge. "Curse you, old Crom! Couldn't you have made this ledge a bit more wider..." But before he could finish, he slipped and hurtled downward as fast as the rocks around him. Flailing his muscular arms wildly, the young barbarian managed to get a grip on one of the many outcropping slabs of rock in the cliff face. Using all the strength in his shoulders and arms, Cimmerian swung himself up and onto the outcropping slab.
When Cimmerian started this climb, he was fired, as he always is, with a grim and boundless determination. The determination had in no way slackened, but now, however, he was also very angry. For an ordinary man, to even attempt this climb would be unthinkable. It was an arduous climb even for the mightily thewed barbarian. And the prospect of being scalded to death by the boiling oil that came cascading down did not make scaling the sheer rock wall any easier. "Crom!" The barbarian called out as he catapulted himself to safety with a death defying leap on to a stalagmite upgrowth of limestone rock. Cimmerian clung on to it for dear life and found himself musing, that boulders, rocks and boiling oil seemed odd sorts of defenses for a wizard to employ.
After the briefest of respites, the daring climb continued as the barbarian stepped back onto the rocky cracks in the cliff face. On the far horizon, the crimson sun was setting amid a corona of golden clouds... creating a vista so breathtaking even an unschooled barbarian was tempted to pause and admire it. But not for long, as a bale of blazing faggots swung down from above like a torturer's razor-edged pendulum. A two handed grip on the cliffside was difficult enough, but holding fast with one hand was perilously close to impossible, yet Cimmerian unsheathed his longsword and readied himself. Split second timing was everything if he hoped to survive being charged to a crisp, as he swung his sword at the precise moment the tensed cord swung the blazing bale away from his head. Severing the cord with one neat stroke, the barbarian breathed a deep sigh of relief as the released bale crashed downward in a blaze of fury.
Initially it was concern for the safety of a new found friend and companion that inspired Cimmerian on this arduous mission, now it was the thirst for the wizards blood. And at long last the summit came within his grasp as he pulled his massive frame up onto the ledge that widened out into a platform in front of a yawning cave, it's dark and damp entrance as uninviting as the climb had been.
"Faint footprints!" Cimmerian observed, "Barely visible in the thin layer of earth near that cave." Striding boldly into the dark egress of the cave, Cimmerian bellowed, " I have come for you, wizard!"
"Mortal fool, go away!" an eerie voice echoed around the hollowed interiors of the mountain known as Wizards Keep, "Go back to the earthly world from whence you came."
Cimmerian laughed a deep, resentful laugh.
"Back, I say! Ere I obliterate your very soul." The voice grew hoarse, but it would take more than a few idle threats to deter the young barbarian. Silent as a stalking panther, Cimmerian padded stealthily toward the cavern's mouth from where the voice seemed to emanate.
And then, as he entered the dimly lit room carved into the bedrock... "Well Fool, have your eyes seen enough?" The voice mockingly laughed and Cimmerian's narrowed icy stare widened.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Two
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EXCERPT FIVE
Chapter Eighteen - The Glory of Ikhmet
They rode on furiously for hours without stopping until the dark and foreboding town of Ikhmetus came into view. A mammoth temple rose up from the dry, arid wasteland and towered upward. Its high, intricately designed walls darkened by years of neglect and weather. Small hutments scattered around the temple to form a desolate town. People in ragged attire, painstakingly dragged themselves about. None bothered to look up at the approaching party as they rode on, Gayalona flanked by Cimmerian and Gwaeradd, accompanied by three of his swarthy companions, who rode behind.
"Look!" Gayalona said apprehensively, "The temple from Sharcoo' vision veils."
Cimmerian grunted in reply, the sooner it had been dealt with the better, he thought.
The party stopped by the foot of the temple and Gayalona asked, "Where is the pendant hidden, Gwaeradd?"
"Deep within this great Temple to Ihkmet." Gwaeradd drawled in his nasal tone, "Hail to the mighty and magnificent Ihkmet."
"What?" Gayalona started and Cimmerian muttered a few curses, his broadsword was in his hand in a flash as swarms of humanoid forms but in reptilian skin with snake like heads poured out from the temple and the surrounding darkness.
Gwaeradd raised his arms and drawled the same chant again as more of the slithering serpent slaves crawled out from the deep recesses.
"What are you doing?' Gayalona gasped, disbelief written all over her face.
Gwaeradd laughed and waved his hands, and the horde of serpent slaves that swarmed around suddenly fell upon them. Cimmerian fought like a demon possessed, his savage sword hewing off reptilian heads, tails and limbs alike in random but their large numbers overwhelmed him. Within moments the savagely snarling barbarian was bound with ropes and a large wooden log was pushed between his arms and back. The snake-men then pulled him up to his knees and held him up by his long, black mane.
"I have a new life here, Gaya..." Gwaeradd spoke, in his nasal tone, with a hint of gloating, "I had set out to discover newer ways of faith and I have found the very best, Ikhmet, God of the Serpent realm. God of true power and might."
"But... but, you had set out to turn people away from this evil belief," Gayalona sputtered, "It has ensnared you instead. Come with me to Nevtalathal, she can yet save you."
"No! I am not under any foolish curse but have embraced it willfully... Ihkmet gives his true believers real power," He hissed, and suddenly his hands roamed all over Gayalona's body. "Do you feel the power, my pretty?"
"What are you doing?' she screamed, slapping his hands away.
"You are a fool, Gaya," Gwaeradd laughed, "A fool to be trapped in the belief of a faith that seeks to stifle life. Msytra calls for your celibacy to prove yourself, thus denying the very essence of life... to procreate. Ihkmet has no such unreasonable demands. Come; cherish your true faith, of body and mind in spiritual bliss. Join me."
"No!" Gayalona screamed, horrified to behold the transformation in the man whom she loved, "Ihkmet is evil!"
"Ah!" Gwaeradd laughed, "It is a matter of personal choice, you naive fool of a woman. Come; do not deny your heart's true desire. Why would you travel half the world for me, if not to lay with me."
"There is always a choice, Gwaeradd, a choice against evil!" the novitiate said slowly, her body trembling with rage and disgust. "I have come here to help you return to the rightful ways of Mystra."
Gwaeradd laughed mockingly as Cimmerian groaned, the heavy weight of the log thrust between his bound arms and back held him down. "Do you deny me because you have had to appease this barbar oaf's lust to acquire the pendant of Ihkmet." Gwaeradd laughed.
"Hold your vile tongue, dog!" Cimmerian growled, "Lest I carve it out."
Gwaeradd laughed and kicked the barbarian in the ribs, even as Gayalona screamed and fought against the vicious grip the serpent slaves had on her. "Gwaeradd, you are beyond saving now, may Mystra forgive your tainted soul."
"And may Ihkmet arouse desire in you, celibate." Gwaeradd laughed, gesturing obscenely.
"Accursed dog priest," Cimmerian roared, rising to his full height, he snapped the thick log into two, hurling the serpent slaves who held him down backwards. The ropes that bound him, now loosely fell to the floor as the barbarian howled savagely and fell upon the leering Medenisan servant of Ihkmet.
But Gwaeradd yet laughed, as he blew a fine spray of powder into the onrushing behemoth's face, causing him to fall to his knees, whimpering like a child. “I am blinded."
"Ah, the effects of a finely concocted concentrate of the Mechian plant are more than merely to blind you. It will cloud your mind and weaken even your limbs." Gwaeradd laughed maniacally, and waved at his minions, "Take him below, bind him in iron shackles this time."
Gayalona watched with tearful eyes as the barbarian was dragged away downwards into the temple of Ihkmet, his limp, weakened body buffeting down the stony hard steps of the temple.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Two
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EXCERPT SIX
Chapter 21 - Wrath of the Serpent God
"Barbarian!" hissed Nevtalathal, her slithering, serpent tresses swaying to her head movement, "You think you can best me… do you?"
Cimmerian growled and stood his ground, sword in hand, pushing Gayalona behind him
"And you, priestess novitiate of the accursed Mystra," Nevtalathal's fierce red eyed glare fell upon Gayalona. " You wear the pendant of Ikhmet, and thus it will protect you from me, tis true. But your barbarian friend shall pay for the folly of you both… and his death shall neither be easy nor pleasant."
Gayalona felt a cold shiver run down her spine, even as Cimmerian braced himself for attack.
"Behold!" boomed the sorceress in serpent form and reared up. Then suddenly Cimmerian was upon the slithering coils of her back, and in a fury he smote the scaled tail with the edge of his savage broadsword, but to no avail as the scaly flesh repelled the blow. Then, a bolt of fire lashed out of Nevtalathal's open mouth, pouring a burning hail of poisonous flame over Cimmerian's left side as he deftly parried most of the surge from reaching his face.
"Crom's blood," the barbarian cried in more astonishment than pain. "My arm! It's covered in scales!"
Gayalona gasped at the sight of the greenish, gray slimy scales that seemed to be forming over the barbarian's well-muscled left arm. "Quick, Cimmerian! Take the Pendant! It will protect you from Nevtalathal's fire." And with a quick toss, the scarlet pendant exchanged hands.
"Stand clear. Gayalona!" Cimmerian barked. "As I fight this piteous monster."
"Monster!" Nevtalathal screamed, her eyes close to popping from her head, "You dare, barbarian. When you life is already forfeit." Cimmerian wasted no time in heeded the sorceress as he scaled up the side of the temple. "We shall see who the greater monster is." The sorceress screamed as her eyes followed the barbarian's perilous climb, her mouth already forming an open 'oh'.
The burning spray of poison and fire struck Cimmerian as he scaled the walls of Ikhmet's temple again and again. "Gayalona! The pendant is not protecting me…" the barbarian hollered, "I am turning into a snake creature."
As yet again the great jaws of the serpent sorceress opened, Cimmerian screamed in agony as the burning heat scaled his back, replacing his steel hard, bronze spun skin into a hide of scaled leather. Still he climbed, his body now a cruel parody of man and reptile, as once more the killing flames strike him down, but not off his footing. He finally clambered up to the top of the temple and crawled on to the stoned roof.
He rose slowly, his body twisted and ravaged, his strength all but gone… nothing but his will remained as he held his sword in an overhead grip, in hands half human and half reptilian webbing.
Nevtalathal raised her furious head, and opened her mouth yet again to strike…but she paused. In a killing rage, Cimmerian launched himself from the top of the temple, his savage broadsword grasped before him… and leapt straight into the gaping jaws of the astonished sorceress. For a moment, the demonetized sorceress gapes in bewildered silence as the barbarian slid down her throat. The suddenly, the huge head reared back in a scream if confusion and agony as a writing lump appeared writhing her coils.
And as Gayalona's eyes widened in astonishment and fear, a bloody rift tore through Nevtalathal's scaled hide, and the monstrous snake-form went crashing to the ground in a whirlwind of gray dust. Then, horror of horrors, the ghastly flesh began to disintegrate into dust, leaving only the scaly crust of her skin intact.
Gayalona approached the felled creature with caution, being now well aware of the recuperating abilities of demons and sorcerers. The novitiate called out, "Cimmerian! Cimmerian, are you there?" She walked along the length of collapsed hide and frantically called again, "Cimmerian, is that you? Where are you? If you're alive… show yourself!" Her tone grew more and more desperate with every step she took. She stared down sadly at the lifeless coils of collapsed flesh. "And if you're not alive…"her voice trailed off as the hint of tears welled up in her eyes.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Three
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Here are some excerpts from Tale three. The full version, rated pg-13, is still on the forge and soon to beposted on www.fictionpress.com.
All CHARACTERS are based on people I have inter-acted with on online forums, clubs and groups. The similarities are not co-incidental but intentional, Muah hah hah.
If you like or dislike what you read here, please feel free to comment and criticise on the proper thread.
Elenna and Shadow, I'd love some feedback from you here, before I actually post this at fictionpress.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Three
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EXCERPT ONE
The time came when he stood alone and no hooded men in green could his blood shot eyes find but those among the dead. The ones who fled ran screaming into the darkness as if pursued by demons themselves. The battle rage slowly left the blood soaked Barbarian and his steel blue eyes softened on the black stallion, lying dead in a dark pool that was already soaking into the rocky soil.
A scrabbling sound drew Cimmerian’s eyes. The woman slid down from the boulder and stood, her widened eyes transfixed on him, her bow held loosely in her hand. Snug tunic and riding breeches of tawny silks delineated every curve of her full-breasted form. Lips pursed, she examined the Barbarian standing tall before her. Her hands shook.
“Why didn’t you put a few shafts in a few?” Cimmerian demanded, “You might have saved yourself before I came.”
“My quiver…” Her voice trailed off, bending to pick up the quiver. A crack ran down one side of the black lacquer work. Checking her arrows and discarding three that were broken, she slung the quiver on her back.
“I had no time to reach this,” she said adjusting the cords that held the lacquered box to her back, “They ambushed me in numbers. My sword too got embedded on one of those devils. It was Elkirk’s own luck that I made it to that rock.”
“This is no country for a woman to ride alone,” Cimmerian grumbled as he retrieved his rolled cloak and wiped his bloody blade on his saddle pad. He knew he should take a diferent course with a woman who had gone through a harrowing ordeal, but he stood with his horse dead and a dozen gashes and cuts, if not serious, still burned and bled and in no mood to walk easily with anyone.
“Guard your tongue!” The woman snapped. “ I am the Lady Shadosta of Calfian. Defender of the realm!” Then holding her bow before her as if it were a shield, she said, “What do you do here?”
“What I do is walk, since my horse is slain in the saving of your life,” Cimmerian growled, “For which, I mind me, I have heard no word of thanks.”
Mouth dropping open, Shadosta stared at him, astonishment warring with anger on her beautiful face. Drawing a deep breath, she shook her head as if waking from a dream.
“You saved my life…” she began, then trailed off, “ I do not even know your name.”
“I am called Cimmerian!” The tall, bronzed youth replied, “Lately off Mantahn, I ride for Alburi.”
Shadosta made a small bow, and her smile trembled only a little. “Cimmerian, I offer you my heart felt thanks for my life. As well, I offer you to ride my horse with me and the use of my camp for as long as you wish to stay.”
“I pray you do not mean the camp over yonder rise.” Cimmerian said, slightly amused.
“I have a base camp at Alburi, “Sahdosta said unsteadily, and waved at a shimmering white stallion as it cantered over to where they stood. “And if you wish you may ride with me there.”
“How far is it from this place?” Cimmerian stroked the fine animal’s brow.
“A few turns of the glass, half a day if we ride double.” The Paladin commander of Calfian’s elite replied, mounting her steed.
“The let us leave this place in haste.” Cimmerian grated, jumping up behind Shadosta’s high saddle.
“A fine horse!” He added. “It did not flee while you were attacked.”
“Noxian is well trained,” Shadosta answered curtly.
Her armour and most of her weapons had been destroyed or lost in the attack the earlier night. Her half score paladins and she had the upper hand, slaying the marauding wites with ease until the demon beast arrived. It slew all her best men within moments and burnt down her entire advance camp, then left as suddenly it had come, leaving the vultures in green to pick at what remained. Her. They seemed to want to take her to their leader. But what had the Order of Douns have to do with need of her. True, that Queen Anucia prevented their progress as a religion, but yet why her? She felt it better no not mention any of that to her newfound benefactor just then. It would be prudent to find out what his true intent and nature was.
Cimmerian wondered at Shadosta’s silence. Women in his experience rarely kept quiet for more that a tenth of a glass. However, it gave his a chance to mull over what had so far transpired. Out here he felt would be the last place to run into the Order of Douns fanatics, but at leat the undead demons weren’t with them. Wgat was their need with this woman, Shadosta of Calfian. Be what it may, he felt it prudent not to tell her anything unless he had ascertained her true motivation in being in that hellish place. He decided to ride along with her to her camp in Alburi and let matters unfold as they would.
The Lady Shadosta’s life as a paladin in the service of Elkirk and the realm did not demand celibacy, but still leniently preferred it. Yet she had so far lived her eighteen years in noble and chaste discipline. With no time, desire or the need to wed, she took little interests in the affections men had for her. Much of the women in the Amoricaun nobility allowed few men to so much as a kiss, but not her. She allowed no man to touch her, or even get close enough to try. But on occasion she often thought of the man that would be perfect for her. Though no such man in Amoricau had met her expected standards, yet. This was such an occasion.
As they rode on in silence, with an idle corner of her mind she sketched the man she would want. Of noble lineage, certainly. An excellent horseman, archer and swordsman, of course. Tall, nearly a head and a half above her. And broad of shoulders, with a deep, powerful chest. Handsome, rather ruggedly. Dark mane that swept in the wind, and his eyes… Abruptly she gasped as she recognized him. He sat, astride her horse, right behind her. Her face flooded with scarlet. Blue eyes! Wild maned! A Barbarian! Like smoldering emeralds, her eyes blazed. That she would allow such a one to touch her, That she would consider such a thing without realizing… Mystra! It was worse done without realizing it.
She jumped when Cimmerian placed a callused palm on her arm. “Do not touch m…” She almost screamed.
“Those tracks…” Cimmerian said, unheeded, pointing to a set of large tracks gouged deep into the earth. “ I have seen some liken to those near your destroyed camp.”
Shadosta reined Noxian to a halt and her eyes widened, then goggled. On the ground, a path leading into a canyon, the spoor of the demon beast was plentiful. Tracks leading in and out showed that it had explored the narrow cuts. Unease permeated the beautiful paladin. She had seen the demon beast kill her elite knights with unnatural speed and strength. And viciousness. She dismounted and knelt the tracks, nocking and arrow. “These are fresh,” she breathed, “These are the tracks of a demon beast that slays by fire.” She turned to look up at her tall companion as he dismounted to join her by the tracks.
“And from the size of its feet,” Cimmerian mused, “ I’d say it is a big one, as tall as an oak perhaps.”
“Do you not disbelieve me?” Shadosta asked, eyeing Cimmerian warily.
“I have seen such before and much more,” Cimmerian said grimly, tracking a finger along the ridges of a foot print, “as recent as the night gone.”
The air around them reeked of foul sorcery. Shadosta opened her moutn th reply, and a shrill ululation split the air, chilling the blood, making the white horse buck and scream. In the nick of time, Cimmerian managed to grasp at its reins to steady the stallion.
“Crom!” he breathed into the din that blasted out of the deep stone walls of the cavernous canyon. Shadosta grabbed at Cimmerian’s massive arm.
Then, out of the canyon came a monstrous creature, huge, on massive legs. Slime covered, phosphorent skin gleamed in the midday sun. Adamantine claws on its feet raked and gouged the stone beneath it. The broad head was thrown back, he widespread maw, smoldering, revealed jagged teeth like splinters of stone and that piercing cry shook them to their souls.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Three
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EXCERPT TWO
“Did you hear that, Andrus?” Elenna whispered.
“Aye!” he whispered back. “The sounds of stone sliding and clicking.”
“What are you two spouting?” Envias grumbled, peering out of his tent, “I hear nothing!”
The camp, under Elenna’s guidance, was placed as well as could be under the given surroundings. The stunted trees that were scattered so sparsely through the lands, a league away from Alburi town, were in this spot gathered into what might pass for a grove, though a exceedingly thin one. At least they added some modicum of hiding to the camp. Envias’ tent, white and blue, bearing the banner of his nobility on its tent pole, stood between two massive granite boulders and was screened behind by the brown rocks of a sheer cliff.
Other tents, smaller and gray-hued to blend into the land, were scattered in twos and threes in a few well-hidden depressions. The horses were picketed in a long, narrow hallow that could be missed by even anyone looking for it. To one unfamiliar with the land, the encampment would be all but invisible.
In the canescent predawn light, Elenna, followed by Andrus, walked silently toward the rising cliffs beyond their camp, searching. A line of deeper blackness within the dark rocks caught her gaze. She made her way to it and found a horizontal fracture in the face of the cliff. It was wide enough to hold a small person, deep enough for one to remain hidden from all but someone sticking an arm into it.
Flipping the spear that she carried around, the warrior woman slowly pushed the wooden spear butt into the crevice, gingerly prodding. Andrus stood beside her, steel bared. A sharp gasp came from within the darkness. Elenna withdrew the shaft and whispered, “Come out and surrender… we will not harm you.”
There was a scuffing sound next and a small head, covered in a dull, black hood, peered out of the crevice.
“Come out of there. And make no sudden moves.” Andrus warned.
With the suppleness of a cat, the figure, clothed in tight tunic and leggings of the same dull black as the hood, rolled out of the crevice, came to its feet and stood before them, a thin dagger bared in each fist. Elenna and Andrus instinctively held up their own weapons, taking defensive stances.
“It is a woman. And young!” The knight said hoarsely.
“Who are you and why do you hide so?” Elenna asked the brown-eyed girl facing them.
Dropping her daggers abruptly, the girl sank to her knees. “I am Laidheliel,” she stammered, “ evil creatures are after me. I found your camp and thought I would be safe if I hid amidst such well armed men… and women.”
“What kind of evil creatures?” Elenna asked softly, kneeling beside the shaking girl.
“Horrible demons… ugly, twisted limbs… and their eyes… Mystra save me!”
“You will be safe amongst us. Laiedheliel,” Elenna said comfortingly, “I am called Elenna and this is Andrus.”We are on leave from the Queen of Amoricau to hunt down and slay all such soul creatures as you describe.”
“Aye!” Andrus enthused, “And the lady Elenna is the one prophesied to slay the great demon of Chaos!”
Laiedheliel smiled for the first time since she parted company with Cimmerian. She disliked having to leave his side without letting him know, but perhaps she feared, that it would bring about her own death if she kept with him long, and besides she had this great emerald to sell. He would definitely demand a share, had he known. She felt safer now, with these knights and warriors of the realm. And also with this Lady Elenna. She seemed a nice sort. But where had she heard that name before. There was something familiar about it.
“A wench!” A crude voice broke her reverie.
Laidheliel found herself looking into the eyes of a young man too well dressed and handsome to be a warrior. And his intense eyes roamed over her as if he appraised her naked on a slave block. If anything, she resented being called a wench.
“I am no wench…” she said through gritted teeth, then added, “My lord.” For he certainly looked like one, surly demeanor notwithstanding.
“Do not expect free protection and usage of out amenities,” the man went on, licking his thin lips, “ everyone here earns their keep.”
“My Lord Envias,” Elenna stepped in, her voice gentle, but laden with iron. “Should you not be instructing the men on the hunt. They await you eagerly. Leave this young woman to men, I will instruct her of her duties if she wishes to remain among us.”
Envias nodded, “I trust she will do fine.” And he set off toward his lavish pavilion. Andrus suppressed a smile. The men so far did hear all that Lord Envias had to say, but following what he said would be another matter. They put their faith in the Lady Elenna for that.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Three
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EXCERPT THREE
Creaking, the chains that held Cimmerian’s arms began to rattle down, lowering him to the stone floor. He could not suppress a groan as his position shifted; he had no idea how many hours he had hung there. The pool of light and dark beyond were unchanging, giving no sign of time’s passage. His feet touched the stone floor, and knees long strained gave way. The full length of his massive body collapsed on the stone floor. Straining, he tried to get his arms under him, but the blood had long since drained from them. They could only twitch numbly.
The two malformed beings that had wielded the whips hurried into the light and began removing the chains. His weakened struggles were useless as they manacled his arms behind him and clasp a heavy iron ring around his neck.
Nevtalathal stepped into the pool of light, emerald eyes flashing hotly. “Bring him!” she commanded coldly.
“Is-your-wrath-spent?” Cimmerian managed to croak through dry, cracked lips. His throat felt as dry as pottery shards.
“Be silent!” one of Nevtlathal’s malformed slaves screeched. “Move!”
Then it began to lead Cimmerian after his mistress, dragging the huge Barbarian by the chain fastened to the bolt around his thick neck.
“Watch this one closely, he’s dangerous.” It called out to its equally hideous companion who fell in step behind Cimmerian, prodding him now and then with a blunt spear.
“Where-are-we-going?” Cimmerian forced a question out, word by word and two sharp prods of the blunt spear answered him. Grunting, Cimmerian swore to send these two scum back to the hell that spawned them.
Through dark and musty twists and turns they stumbled until they came to a moderately lit opening. A gleaming pool stood waist high in one corner and three ravens sat on half of the iron perches beside it. Cimmerian blinked at the brightness of the pool.
Nevtalathal stood before him, hands on her hips, legs apart. A black robe of shimmering silk covered her from neck to ankles. “Remove his bonds!” She commanded coldly and the two beings holding him complied.
The Barbarian stood erect now, some life having returned to his limbs. He towered before the smoldering sorceress, unmindful of his nakedness. With gentle fingers, Nevtalathal touched Cimmerian’s wounds, wincing at purpled flesh and dried blood.
“I knew you would change your mind,” Cimmerian said hoarsely, reaching for her.Her hand cracked across his face and she stepped back smoothly.
“Eat!” She barked, pointing at a clay jug of wine and a large spiced sausage on the floor. “And gather strength. We go to fight a common foe.”
Cimmerian fell upon the offering eagerly, ripping the sausage with his teeth and washing it down with large gulps of sour wine. He had had no food or drink since before his capture.
Tossing the empty clay jug aside and popping the last bit of sausage in to his mouth, he leapt to his feet and rushed at the two twisted creatures. His massive fist hammered into one, cracking ribs and sending it sprawling back down the dark passage. Seizing the other by the throat, he dashed its brains out against the wall. Swiftly whirling, he rushed at the sorceress with a savage snarl.
Calmly, Nevtalathal waved her slender hands and chanted arcane words, and suddenly Cimmerian, a hand-span away from her, froze in mid air and tumbled to the floor, convulsing in agony.
“Fool!” Nevtalathal snarled, “Heed me now. I agree that you needed to expend your wrath on my slaves, Figwidh and Tiffbit. But I, I too seek to thwart Mohron’s evil!”
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN series
The Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Three
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EXCERPT FOUR
PART ONE
Grapnels swung into the air, clattered atop the wall and took hold. Men swarmed up the ropes like ants and dropped within. Once inside the compound, Elenna barely noticed the men following her, weapons in hand, falling back on either side so that she was the point of an arrow, her own blade in hand. Ignoring other buildings, Elenna strode towards the largest structure of the camp, an alabaster palace of golden domes and columned porticos and towers of porphyry. Shadosta was in that palace, she knew. And the Tri-Eye jewels.
Suddenly a verdant robed man appeared before her, staring in astonishment at the intruders. Producing a dagger, he yelled, “In the name of the Barowite, die!”
A fool to waste time with shouts, Elenna thought, wrenching her blade free so that the body could fall. What obscenity was this ‘Barowite’? But the noise produced another hooded wite. This one thrusting a spear at her, shouting the same cry. The warrior woman grasped the spear haft to guide the spear point clear of her body; the point of her longsword ended the strange shout in a gurgle of blood.
Then hundreds of men and women in verdant robes came rushing into the open. At first they seemed only curious, then those nearest Elenna spotted the bodies of their brethren and screamed. In an instant panic seized them by the throat, and the ybecame a boiling mass, seeking only escape, yet almost overwhelming those they feared in a tide of numbers.
Forgetting his own instructions to stay together, Elazar began to for his way through the pack of struggling flesh after Elenna and Laidheliel, toward the palace.
Elenna surged ahead, Shadosta and the Tri-Eye were the only thoughts in her head.
Elenna stalked one wall of the palace corridor, with no eyes for the rich tapestries or ancient vases of rare Shinarguin porcelain. Laiedheliel slunk along the other wall, long daggers in each hand. As a pair of lionesses they hunted. The warrior woman had no knowledge of where Elazar and the others were. From time to time the clash of steel and the cries of dying men sounded from outside, or echoed down the halls from the other parts of the palace.
Silent as death, three men in green and black, hurled from the side corridor, bone scimitars slashing. Elenna caught a blade on her longsword, sweeping toward the wall and up. As her own blade came parallel to the floor she slipped it off the other in a slashing blow that half severed her opponents head. Flashing swiftly on, her sword axed into the second man’s neck a heartbeat before Laiedheliel buried a dagger into the man’s ribs. Twice slain, the body fell atop that he who had faced the blonde thief at the first attack.
“You work well.” Elenna grunted, wiping her blade on a corpse’s robe.
“I owe these filthy robed vermin…” Laidheliel words trailed off as both women became aware of another presence in the corridor.
Unhurriedly a black robed man moved toward them, with the casual confidence of a great beast that knows its kill is assured. Slowly he pulled the black hood back and smiled sardonically.
Elenna and Laidheliel gasped. “Envias!”
Both women firmed their grips on their blade hilts.
“This is my fight.” Elenna said coldly.
“So it is, wench!” Envias sneered. “ I do not believe you to be the true heir of Lord ___(Elenna, any suggestion for a family name for your character?)___.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Three
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EXCERPT FIVE
Cimmerian blocked a sword slash aimed at his head and kicked another attacker full in the belly. The second hooded wite fell beneath the feet of a third. The Barbarian’s steel pivoted around the first opponent curved blade to drive through a green robed chest. A mighty swing of his ancient broadsword sent a hooded head rolling on the granite blocks then continued to rip out another throat in a spray of blood.
Battle rage rose in him, the fiery blood that drowned all reason. Some men are said to be born for battle, Cimmerian was born on the field of battle. The scent drawn in with his first breath was the coppery smell of fresh spilled blood. The first sounds to greet his ears had been the clash of steel. The first sight his eyes beheld had been ravens circling in the sky, waiting till living men departed and they ruled what remained.
With a battle fury that had been his birthright, he strode before the wites hat rushed him and fell before his murderous whirlwind of steel. His eyes burned like azure flame, and all those who looked into them knew they saw their own deaths.
In some corner of his mind sanity remained enough to see Elenna, facing three wites, fighting with longsword in one hand and the Demon-Lance in the other. Elazar and Baromar stood back to back, and a barricade of hooded corpses slowed the others who tried to reach them.
Abruptly, the four wites who faced him backed away, dark eyes going wide in horror as they stared over the big youth’s shoulder. The wites outside the circle were silent, pressing back from the stone columns. Cimmerian risked a backward glance and clamped his teeth on an oath.
Slowly the iridescent form of the Chaos-Demon moved upward from the erupting ground, it’s great rubiate eyes coldly surveying the arena filled with men who slowed and ceased their struggles as they became aware of it. One of its massive arms ended in a stump where its hand should be and almost beneath its mammoth feet crouched Laiedheliel and Nevtalathal.
“Behold!” The black robed man cried, flinging wide his arms. “The sign of the Eldar Gods is with us!”
For an instant there was silence save for the dimly heard sounds of distant battle. Then Nevtalathal screamed. “Cimmerian!”
The sorceress rose up and reached out her hand desperately, “Hold aloft your sword!”
Instinctively, the Barbarian did as she instructed and the sorceress chanted three arcane words before the demon’s large, clawed foot crushed down on her.
“Crom!” Cimmerian roared, leaping forward toward the hellish creature, even as it stepped toward him. Memory of their last encounter was strong in Cimmerian and as the spike-toothed maw open he threw himself into a rolling tumble. Flame roared. The wites who had faced him screamed as hoods, hair and filthy robes blazed.
Cimmerian knew well the quickness of the beast-thing. He came to his feet only to dive in a different direction, one that took him closer. Fire scorched the stone where he had stood. The phosphorent creature moved with the speed and languid grace of a leopard, Cimmerian like a hunting lion. With a mutter of hope that Nevtalathal had chanted something to aid him, the big barbarian struck. A shock, as of sparks travelling along his bones, went through him. And the blade sliced through one blood red eye, opening a gaping wound down he side of the huge scaled head and jammed the broadsword inside it. The gaping wound dripped thick slimy blood, black as ichor.
Atop the stone mound, Arh-Kital screamed shrilly and threw his hands to his face. The Chaos-Demon threw back its mammoth head and echoed the scream, the two sounds merging, rang through the surrounding mountains of Helasrach.
Cimmerian felt his marrow freezing as the cry lanced through him, turning his muscles to water. Anger flared in him. He would not wait to die. He leaptup oto the Demon’s knee, and grasped for his sword hilt, the blade embedded deep in the behemoth’s skull. With a jerk, the demon thrashed out its stump-hand and sent the big youth sailing into the air, into a knot of terrified, struggling wites.
Ahr-Kital was on his knees, one hand to his face and the other waving frantically. His dark eyes on the wounded demon were pools of horror, widening more as his stare fell on the Demon-Lance in Elenna’s grasp.
The young warrior-woman had frozen like the rest upon first sight of the demon, but now rage and fury drove her. She saw her friend hurled away by it like a leaf in a hurricane. But she also saw him wound the thing. And if it could be hurt, it could be slain. And she wielded the enchanted Demon-Lance. Now whole and empowered by the Tri-Eye. Andrus. Anakion. They would be avenged.
With a wild cry Elenna charged, lance held waist high, vaulting over sprawled bodies.
The demon’s remaining red eye swiveled to look upon her charge. It widened at the sight of the Lance. Rising to its full height, the demon towered over everything.
It would be impossible for Elenna to pierced its heart on foot, but still Elenna charged. The demon took a step back, its flaming breath spent, it lashed out its remaining clawed hand at a knot of hysterical wites.
Arh-Kital howled piteously, calling upon the very pseudo deities he had used to beguile his followers.
Rising to his feet, unarmed and wounded, his broadsword still embedded in the demon and his dagger lost among the wites he slew, Cimmerian ran towards the demon. He knew hat Elenna attempted. He would not see her fail and die. He raced toward her from the opposite direction, from behind the demon.
A few more paces, Elenna thought, and she would plunge the lance into the demon’s groin. It would have to be enough. It had to. She prayed, he heart thumping as loudly as her rapid footfalls. Suddenly she saw Cimmerian behind the foul beast. Her eyes widened as she saw him hurl himself, shoulders charging against the back of the demon’s thick legs. With a piercing howl, the hell born beast lurched backwards and crashed to its knees. In the selfsame moment, Cimmerian burst out through its descending thighs in a forward roll in front of the onrushing Elenna. Not slowing, Elenna leapt on the Barbarian’s crouching shoulders, and he rose, lifting her up. The force of the sprint added to the thrust she got from Cimmerian drove the Demon-Lance into the slavering creature, through its earlier wound.
With a jolt, Elenna halted in mid-air and the lance was wrenched from her grip as the demon reared backward to rise to his feet staggeringly. Elenna screamed agonizingly and fell atop the sprawled Barbarian.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Four
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Here are some more excerpts, this time from Tale four. The full version, rated pg-13, is still on the plot mat and will be posted on www.fictionpress.com in the not to distant future.
All CHARACTERS are based on people I have inter-acted with on online forums, clubs and groups. The similarities are not co-incidental but intentional, Muah hah hah.
If you like or dislike what you read here, please feel free to comment and criticise on the proper thread.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Four
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EXCERPT ONE
The trail wound southward through the lush Narothian Hills, its meandering length of hard-packed earth coursing along more like a young stream than a footpath. To the sides of the trail, slopes burgeoning with vegetation rose up and rolled away to each distant horizon, their leafy cover often serving to impede an eye in search of potential headings.
Mounted atop a hulking warhorse, Cimmerian, lately of Xuphir, found his bearings by way of the sun's position high above the greenery. He turned his face away from the sky and paused a moment, broodingly, before gesturing down at the trail with a callused hand.
"These tracks are fresher than the last, no more than a day old, and they bear the marks of eight riders." His eyes narrowed upon the Nacedian riding a white charger several paces away. "I thought you said this trail was little known?"
Manelwen shrugged, apparently unconcerned. She inclined her head, and sunlight glinted dully from the clasp holding her silvered helmet in place. "I said the trail was little known, not little traveled." She glanced away from Cimmerian's icy stare and spread her arms at the hills around them. "They are probably only men like ourselves, evading the tax-collectors at the border posts," she offered. "I suppose we could have taken the main road. That's where all the guards are... keeping the merchant ilk safe and the revenues flowing." Manelwen smirked knowingly at Cimmerian. "I had thought, though, that you wished to avoid any taxes since your ill luck at the gaming tables in Lasamthe."
"True enough," Cimmerian replied, his tone losing some of its edge. "Perchance on our arrival in Fursleni we'll find work guarding some wealthy lordling's hide and so cure our flagging purses. Until then, I'd like to avoid any confrontations with the locals that might attract unwanted attention. I have little enough coin as it is, and border guards tend to be suspicious of armed men riding abroad all but penniless!"
Manelwen grunted in acknowledgment and spurred her horse to catch up with Cimmerian's, which had suddenly trotted past her. "Your horse must smell water. This trail leads to a lake just before it circles around a border post some leagues ahead."
Though Cimmerian was of similar years as that of the Westlander, he was easily the more experienced of the two. Long used to the habits of beasts of war, Cimmerian shook his black-maned head at Manelwen's suggestion.
"Nay, I think not. Our horses are well fed and watered, and the land provides good foraging. I think they smell something else, something closer than a few leagues . . ."
Cimmerian reined in his steed and stood in the stirrups, his red cape billowing out behind him in the breeze as he craned his head and sniffed. "Do you smell that?"
Manelwen halted her horse and took several hesitant whiffs of the summer air. "You're either imagining things, or you've the nose of a hound," she said, shaking her head in baffled annoyance. "I smell nothing."
"It's carnage... a lot of it." Cimmerian settled his large frame back into the saddle. "A recent enough kill, I'd wager, and not very far ahead." He peered intently up at the leaf-covered crests around them while Manelwen looked at him in wonderment. Cimmerian continued, "These hills provide too many likely ambushes. Ever since we left Xuphir I've felt as if we were being watched or followed. We had best be cautious."
The two men again urged their horses forward. Cimmerian, his eyes glued to the sides of the trail ahead of them, didn't notice the brief look of worry steal across Manelwen's face as she finally caught the coppery tang of death on the noonday breeze.
After about a quarter hour's cautious ride, they came across the first corpse lying in the middle of the path about fifty feet ahead of them. Before Manelwen could even comment, Cimmerian was spurring his mount up the side-trail of a nearby slope, scoping among the trees for signs of lurking treachery. Manelwen squinted at the hills around him, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, cantered her horse to where the corpse lay.
Cimmerian soon finished scouting out the area, having searched the foliage of the surrounding hilltops to his satisfaction. Finding nothing amiss, he headed back toward Manelwen, who had dismounted next to the corpse. Cimmerian rode up beside Manelwen's horse and swung down next to the body, scarcely making a noise as he landed on the dirt trail.
Manelwen looked up at the sudden intrusion.
"It would seem that the scavengers arrived well before we did." Manelwen nodded toward the legless torso lying face-down before them. "His legs must have been scattered by the local wildlife." She pointed an unsteady hand to a spot about ten yards ahead on the trail where two legs, looking chewed and ravaged, lay slightly apart in a pool of congealed blood.
Cimmerian looked down at the legless body and flipped it over with a booted foot. As the corpse rolled onto its back, Cimmerian heard Manelwen stifle a cry. Cimmerian was more than a little surprised at the other warrior's skittishness. "Have you never looked upon the face of a dead man before?" he asked, eyeing Manelwen curiously.
Manelwen's face paled visibly as she looked at Cimmerian in confusion. "I have," she said, looking back down again. "I just didn't expect to see one of my fellow countrymen lying . . . dead," Manelwen bit off the last word as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth to speak it, "so far from Nacedia."
She turned away from the corpse and started rooting around in one of her horse's saddlebags. "I must burn him here, as is my country's custom."
Cimmerian looked over the corpse. A fair, bearded face stared sightlessly up into the summer sky. The dead man's mouth was frozen in a rictus of fright. He had been wearing a chain mail hauberk, which had done little to protect his legs from being cut off like they were. Cimmerian looked at the chain mail around the stumps of the legs a little more closely, and to his surprise, found that the flesh and metal there had not been sheared like he would have expected from sword blows, but had instead been fused.
Cimmerian looked over the rest of the corpse. "Your fellow countryman wears no Nacedic garb. He has not even a marked crest. Why do you assume he's a Nacedian, and not just of mixed race?"
Manelwen looked up from where she had started setting up a pyre just to the side of the path. She dropped the logs and twigs to the ground. "What?"
"This man may not be a Nacedian at all. Are you sure?" Cimmerian asked, thinking to save time on their journey if it turned out Manelwen didn't have to burn the man. Sometimes it wasn't so bad to let the vultures have their meal.
"Of course I'm sure!" Manelwen snapped, her face mottling in anger. Then her expression shifted to one of indignation. "Think you that I would not know one of my own?"
Cimmerian shrugged inwardly, deciding to let the matter pass. "The quiver of arrows on his back does look of Nacedic make after all," he mused aloud. Manelwen looked up distractedly, grunting curtly in agreement.
"Do what you have to do," Cimmerian said. "I'm going to scout on ahead to see if whoever did this might be lying in wait for us as well."
Manelwen stared suddenly up at Cimmerian then blinked. "Of course. I won't be too long here."
She went back to her pyre-building, quietly humming a Nacedic ritual hymn. Cimmerian stood looking down at her for a moment longer, thinking to say something more, but he balked. Mounting his horse instead, he headed on down the trail.
The smell of blood and rot grew sharper in his nostrils as Cimmerian rode to the summit of yet another hill in a long succession of hills along the path into Narothia. As Cimmerian gained the top, he was nearly overwhelmed by the stench of dead meat baking in the afternoon sun. He looked down into the grassy, miniature valley-like depression between hills where the bodies lay in heaps of gore. More than a dozen startled crows took flight as Cimmerian dismounted and led his horse down into the center of the bloody scene.
Cimmerian judged accurately that these had probably been the main group of riders whose tracks he'd been monitoring during his trip southeast. By the looks of the place, the riders had had enough time to set up camp before they were attacked. Cimmerian examined the remains of the burnt-out campfire and determined that these men had been laid upon sometime during the previous night. The young barbarian led his steed to graze some distance away from the camp before he searched the bodies for clues as to the nature of the attack.
The first corpse Cimmerian examined had a huge hole punched in its torso, as if a giant fist had slammed the meat right out of its chest. The odd thing was, Cimmerian noted as he hunkered down next to the body, was that the flesh again looked melted, the wound cauterized, like the legs of the corpse back on the trail. The meat that was missing from the body lay a few yards away in a bloody heap, now swarming and buzzing with flies.
Cimmerian rose and inspected the rest of the bodies. All of them, aside from being seemingly Nacedian warriors, were missing various portions of flesh; the parts, Cimmerian discovered, were spread across the site as if a whirlwind had ripped and flung them from their original owners. None of the body parts appeared charred, however, and neither were any of the fallen weapons, swords and bows alike.
Cimmerian's cursory investigation of this charnel scene also revealed the tracks of eight horses, scattered in all directions through both grass and gore, leading away from the blood-soaked camp. No other sign of the beasts was to be found. A slight breeze stirred Cimmerian's black mane as he stood alone pondering the mystery. No sign of the attackers, nothing apparently stolen, and all apparently killed by some kind of sorcery. No mere bandit's ambush was this, although the Nacedians here looked as if they had been set up to ambush someone themselves, maybe even him and Manelwen. But why?
"What does it matter?" Cimmerian muttered aloud. Men were always killing each other, often for the strangest of reasons.
The faint jingle of a horse's harness caught Cimmerian's attention, and he turned toward the sound. Manelwen was just cresting the hill along the path. Cimmerian called out to her. "Manelwen! There's more of your countrymen here, same as the first!" Cimmerian swept his arm around at the clearing, indicating the rotting meat that was once a group of men.
Manelwen's eyes widened in surprise upon hearing Cimmerian's voice. She cringed inwardly at the sight of the gore-drenched landscape and a numb, disbelieving look crept across her face. Manelwen's horse came to a halt beside Cimmerian.
"We have no time to burn or bury these," Cimmerian said. He looked at Manelwen, who nodded reluctantly.
Cimmerian whistled for his horse, which trotted up to him and turned so he could mount. "We're leaving. Now."
Cimmerian pointed around the clearing, indicating the corpses. "This place stinks of sorcery and I want nothing to do with it." He jumped into the saddle.
Manelwen's crestfallen look subsided a bit as she spoke. "We're not very far from Fursleni. Only a couple days' ride."
Cimmerian led the two at a gallop down the trail, Manelwen glancing fearfully back over her shoulder.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Four
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EXCERPT TWO
The rainfall grew stronger. Rivulets of water flowed off the surrounding hills and etched paths of their own in the dirt and stone of the trail, creating tiny side-streams and making the going more slippery for the horses. As Cimmerian rode through the rain, he noted that the sun should already be clear of the eastern horizon, even if he couldn't see it through the downpour and the heavy cloud cover. Enough sunlight filtered through for the men and horses to see where they were going, but it was akin to riding under bright moonlight.
Manelwen rode several horse-lengths behind Cimmerian, wrapped up in her thoughts as tightly as she was wrapped in her cloak. No man had ever called Manelwen a coward, but she had wit enough to know when she was outmatched, and Cimmerian definitely outmatched her. Never had she seen a man so huge or so deadly! To Manelwen, Cimmerian seemed more like a force of nature than a mortal. All the same, she knew she had to at least try to incapacitate him before they arrived in Fursleni. Even if she failed, her superiors would understand that. But they wouldn't understand her not attempting the task they had set before her.
Manelwen reached down into the quiver strapped to the side of her saddle, flipped up the leather cover and pulled out the arrow. She examined the snubbed tip closely, noting that the serpent venom lotus paste was still intact in the grooves along the arrowhead where she had secretly coated it the night before. Though she knew she had enough of the poison on the arrow to paralyze a bull, to her the weapon somehow seemed inadequate, as if it were but a child's toy that would break and fail if she attempted to use it on Cimmerian. She had no choice. Her country-men were all dead, mysteriously slaughtered at the spot where they were waiting to capture Cimmerian. She knew that he hadn't really missed her chance last night, considering that Cimmerian slept like some wary jungle cat, seemingly with one eye always open.
Manelwen hid the arrow within easy reach inside her cloak, hoping that a suitable chance would arise enabling her to use it. Until then, she would have to wait, especially if she didn't want to get skewered while she was still drawing her bow.
The morning sky grew steadily darker as the rain fell even harder. What little light that had made it through the clouds before had now dwindled so much that it was like midnight. Even Cimmerian's hawk-like eyes could barely pierce the gloom ahead of him, and the constant drumming of the rain practically blotted out the sound of everything else. Cimmerian knew they were riding blind, and the worst part of the situation was that he was getting that feeling again of being watched, although how anybody else could see through this mess was beyond him. Manelwen was riding somewhere behind him, but he couldn't see him when he turned and looked. If they got separated it could be a while before they found each other again, if at all, and Cimmerian still wasn't sure whether to consider that a bad thing or not.
Lightning suddenly arced across the sky, and in the brief flash of almost-daylight Cimmerian glimpsed the inky, sodden hills around him, as well as what appeared to be a large boulder sitting in the middle of the trail a little farther ahead. Darkness blanketed the barbarian's eyes once again as the booming thunder rolled over him. His horse staggered a bit as it recovered from a brief slip on the wet trail. Cimmerian dismounted, deeming it best to lead his horse until the footing improved.
The feeling of being watched grew more intense, but Cimmerian hadn't spotted anyone among the trees on the slopes around him. As far as he could tell, the trail was devoid of tracks, although in the rain and dark he could easily miss the signs of someone's passing. As he led his steed, Cimmerian continuously scanned the ground ahead of him, hoping he might find some evidence of those unseen eyes before he found himself on the wrong side of an ambush.
Cimmerian had apparently forgotten about Manelwen, who had spotted him a few dozen yards ahead during the last flash and had knocked her bow with the drugged arrow in anticipation of using it during the glow of the next lightning strike. Manelwen knew that Cimmerian's armour would absorb enough of the force of the blow that it wouldn't be lethal, but the arrowhead itself should breach his black scale mail hauberk enough to deliver its paralyzing dose of the serpent venom. If the arrow did fail to knock out Cimmerian however, Manelwen could always escape in the rainy darkness and thereby live to try again in the future. Whatever the outcome, Manelwen believed that hers was currently the upper hand, and she was prepared to use it.
She sighted along the arrow's shaft out into the darkness, out to where she last saw Cimmerian riding, and slowly pulled back on the bowstring until it was just past halfway drawn. She waited.
In the meantime, Cimmerian had approached to within a few man-lengths of the boulder; he could now see it, a large black mass barely standing out against the pitch background of rain and darkness. A stream of water flowed around the huge rock, split in twain by the boulder's unyielding presence. As he walked, Cimmerian could see small stones and clumps of mud and vegetation wash by him as the streams carried the debris back the way he had come. Then, not quite before he knew what was happening, he was falling, his footing having been washed away by the torrent of rainwater. It was all Cimmerian could do to keep from sprawling flat on his face as he managed to land on one knee, mud and water soaking into his legging.
He was about to rise when his hackles rose first, instincts bred in his barbaric homeland and honed in the chaos of battle alerting him to danger like they had so many times in the past. Cimmerian froze and listened intently, trying to push past the beat of the rain. He found himself staring at the boulder and figured that there must be someone waiting behind it. Cimmerian slowly unsheathed his savage longsword as he let go of his horse's reins and nudged the animal to the side of the trail. A sudden scuffing noise, sounding from above, told him that whoever or whatever it was waited on top of the boulder, not behind it. These thoughts barely registered in Cimmerian's brain before he was rolling to the side and coming up in a defensive swordsman's stance, ready to fight.
A light appeared above the rock, a greenish orb framing the outline of outstretched fingers. The light grew suddenly brighter, and the rain hissed and steamed as it fell against the glowing hand. Cimmerian could see a cloaked figure, black robes billowing wildly beneath the emerald green luminescence, its burning emerald eyes the figure's only other visible feature.
Cimmerian bellowed, "Who are you?!"
He tightened his double-handed grip on his sword. Recalling the mysteriously slain men of the day before, Cimmerian's current situation did not bode him well.
The figure spoke, a guttural response in Cimmerian's native hillbred tongue, but with a strange lilting accent that Cimmerian could not place.
"Barbarian, I have come for you. Beware--" The sentence was abruptly cut off as the speaker gasped and clutched at an arrow protruding from his chest.
In that same instant the ball of light, previously held aloft by the stranger, streaked down from the upraised hand as the figure slumped atop the boulder.
"Crom!" Cimmerian ducked and flung himself aside. As he crashed into the ground, the bolt of crackling energy flashed by. With a deafening explosion it slammed into the trail several feet behind the spot where Cimmerian had just been, throwing up a wall of silt in all directions and temporarily lighting up the darkness, jade-green.
An ululating Nacedic battle-cry pierced the air as Manelwen drove her horse up the muddy path. When the strange light had appeared above the rock blocking the path, Manelwen thought at first that it must be some sign of favour from the gods, illuminating her quarry amid the blinding murk around them so she could get a clear shot. Then she had noticed the obscure figure perched on the boulder, apparently the source of the light, and Manelwen guessed that this must be the one who killed her fellow-men. In a heartbeat, Manelwen had decided that rather than risk having to fight the mysterious newcomer after immobilizing Cimmerian, his best bet was to avenge his men and spare Cimmerian their fate. After all, he'd been ordered to deliver Cimmerian alive and in one piece to Bludarx's palace. So she had fired the drugged arrow at the wizard, drawn her sword and charged up the slope.
Cimmerian lifted his head and wiped the muck from his eyes in time to see the wounded individual atop the boulder wrap his cape around himself and disappear in a flash of white light. Cimmerian got to his feet and turned at the sound of the pounding of horse's hooves as Manelwen rode up, her sword twirling above her head. Upon seeing they were alone and the danger past, Manelwen lowered her sword and climbed down from the saddle. The rain was already lessening, as if a pall had been lifted from the land with the disappearance of their strange attacker.
Cimmerian put his own sword away and clenched Manelwen's shoulder in a vice-like grip, his face grim.
Manelwen swallowed, the chilling needles of fear pricking their way up her spine, fear that Cimmerian had somehow discovered her true intentions. Beads of sweat sprang from her forehead and were lost in the rain. She tensed for the blow that was sure to come.
Cimmerian grinned with mirth at Manelwen's desolate look. "You saved my life!" he boomed. He released his grip and swatted Manelwen heartily on the same shoulder, almost bowling the other man over. "I don't know what that wizard's gripe with me was. Maybe I killed one of his brethren some time in the past. But whatever the case, I owe you."
Sudden realization made Manelwen relax; Cimmerian suspected nothing was amiss. "It wasn't anything I wouldn't do for any comrade-in-arms," she replied, a note of amusement in her voice. "I am honoured that I was able to aid the famed Cimmerian in battle. I only hope that my family will believe such an ostentatious story on my part!"
Cimmerian laughed. "Enough jesting, Manelwen! In sooth, we must be moving on. Rain or not, there may be patrols about, and I for one don't feel like pressing my luck just now."
As both warriors remounted their horses and got under way, Cimmerian couldn't help thinking that maybe he had mistrusted Manelwen for no good reason. If the Nacedian had wanted him dead, he could have feathered him with arrows, or even just let the sorcerer blast him to hell. Either way, if Manelwen had intended ill for him, saving his life probably wouldn't have been the option he chose. Cimmerian's fellow mercenary may have seemed a little odd, but that was no crime as far as Cimmerian was concerned. He was happy enough to be in good company.
Manelwen couldn't help marveling at the turn of events. Instead of being forced to undertake the dangerous, even suicidal job of subduing Cimmerian alone, she believed she'd managed to win him over and gain his trust. It would be easy now. He had even managed to put an arrow in the one she suspected of killing her fellow-men. Wherever that sorcerer was now, he had to be either paralyzed or dead. When Manelwen contacted her superiors again, they would be content to know how things had turned out to their advantage, excluding the deaths of eight fine Nacedian soldiers, of course.
Manelwen chuckled softly to herself as she rode down the path beside Cimmerian, passing the boulder beneath the clearing sky. Even the weather was improving!
NOTE : Manelwen, commisioned to kill our barbarian hero, is a female assassin disguised as a male soldier.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Four
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EXCERPT THREE
The cave was nestled halfway up the sheer side of an extinct volcano located somewhere just between Fursleni and the beginning of the Narothian Hills. Over time, the volcano's neck had been exposed as the softer mountainside around it had been eroded by the elements, leaving a tall cylinder of hard igneous rock behind. The cave that now pocked the giant tube's wall, however, had not been carved by natural forces.
Though the cave's interior was rough and a little cramped, an aura of peace and cleanliness made the closeness of the rock walls that much more bearable. At the back of the cave, about ten paces from the front entrance, a fire crackled away merrily in a small makeshift hearth, the smoke disappearing through a hole in the ceiling. Other than a few furs laid out near a small wooden stand in the middle of the cave, the dwelling was devoid of furnishings. On top of the stand rested a finger-thin, hand-sized globe of black metal, its studded, curved surface strangely sparkling with the firelight like crystals in a geode.
A faint white glow enveloped the black orb as Nevtalathal materialized at the cave's entrance. She staggered several steps toward the orb and collapsed in front of it, barely clinging to consciousness. The white glow around the orb intensified and seemingly reached out, embracing the sorceress with its snowy light. Within several seconds, she recovered somewhat, enough to shed her cloak into a puddle of dusky cloth on the floor behind her, revealing a slender yet volouptous body clad in black, skin-tight leathers. The orb withdrew its light and spoke to Nevtalathal in her own tongue, a language complex and even musical in its form, but entirely alien to any human race.
Nevtalathal nodded at the words and uttered a weary reply, her dark green eyes struggling to stay open. Then with a sudden shout of pain, she reached up and tore the arrow from her breast, flinging it across the cave and into the fire. Immediately a dark jade began to flow from the sorceress' breast, and she clasped her ivory hand over the wound, stemming the flow of her blood.
The orb chimed a low resonant tone as several beams of light shot out from it, filling the empty air in front of Nevtalathal with several lines of bright golden words. The light beams strained to hold the words together, their letters desperately trying to scatter; the phrases they formed were never meant to be seen or uttered in the material plane. And yet Nevtalathal uttered them, each word burning out of the air as it was spoken.
As Nevtalathal recited the spell, she unhooked a small bluish tube from the belt at her waist and popped its cap off with her thumb, then squirted the oily contents of the tube into her wound. She bled freely for several seconds, but then the wound started to congeal. Several small, darker globules of tainted blood pushed their way to the surface of the wound and floated up and out of Nevtalathal's breast, carrying the serpent venom that was in her system into the hole in the ceiling and away with the smoke of the fire.
In a few moments Nevtalathal finished the recitation and the last of the words shimmered out of existence as the wound in her breast completely healed. She stripped off the blood-soaked leather shirt and settled herself onto the floor, legs crossed in front of her, bare breasts glistening darkly with sweat in the firelight and unscarred by any wound.
Nevtalathal again spoke to the orb as she bowed her head, long black clusters of lustrous tresses cascading down around her shoulders. This time, a stream of azure half-moons pulsed out of the orb against Nevtalathal's forehead, like waves washing over a beach. Her last, disturbing thought before she relaxed into a sleep-like trance was that by failing to warn Cimmerian about the treachery of the one he travelled with, she may have lost her only chance to obtain the aid she needed. Without the aid of Cimmerian, Nevtalathal would be unable to halt the evil influence of the criminal Arh Kital, and the people of this world would surely be enslaved like the people of her own kind had once been.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Four
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EXCERPT FOUR
From behind the remaining two, a scream that ended in a gurgle and a battle cry of the Nacedian army elite, told the barbarian that Manelwen had joined the fray.
“Are you hurt?” the Nacedian called, stepping over her two kills.
“No!” replied the big youth, hastily wiping the blood off his blade on a corpse. The were few worse things being caught by the city guard standing over a corpse blade in hand, especially when new to the region.
Cimmerian grabbed the girl’s arm and joined the exodus of fleeing locals, Manelwen close behind them. Down side roads they ran and as soon as they had put some distance between them and bodies, they slowed to a walk. Finally Cimmerian turned into a narrow, deserted alley, pushing the girl in ahead of him. Manelwen followed closely.
“You killed them,” the girl finally blurted incredulously, ‘they’d have run away, an you threatened them.”
“Mayhap I should have let them have you,” Cimmerian growled.
“I thank you for you assistance,” the girl said suddenly in a tone a tone haughty and cool, “ I must be going now.”
She moved towards the entrance of the alley. Cimmerian held out his arm to bar her way. Her ample bosom pressed pleasurably against the hard muscles of his forearm, and she backed away, blushing in confusion.
“Not just yet,” Cimmerian told her.
“Please,” she said, not meeting his eye. There was a quaver in her voice, “I… I am a maiden. My Father will reward you well if you return me to him in the same… condition.” The redness in her cheeks deepened.
Cimmerian and Manelwen laughed loudly. “It is not your virtue we want, girl,” the Nacedian said, “just the answers to a question or three.”
To their surprise her eyes dropped, “I suppose I should be glad, “ she said bitterly, “That even killers prefer lithe, willowy women. I know I am a cow”
“Don’t be silly,” Cimmerian said gruffly, eyeing her voluptuous curves, “You’d give pleasure to any man.”
“I would,” she breathed, wonderingly, her large liquid eyes caressed his face, ‘How,” she added falteringly, “would I?”
The big barbarian tried to suppress a smile, “ Long and hard, well into the night,” he said. She went scarlet to the neck of her silken robe, and he chuckled. The girl blushed easily, and prettily.
“What is you name, little one?”
“Celebia,” she replied, “I am called Celebia.” She looked past him to the street beyond. “Do you think the casket, at least, would be there if we went back? It belonged to my mother, and father would be furious at its loss, more furious than for the jewels, though he’ll be mad enough at the loss of those.”
“The casket has change hands at least twice now,” Manelwen said grimly, “ for money or for blood. And the jewels as well.”
“Tell me, Celebia,” Cimmerian said, “What were you doing alone in the street like that, handing out your jewels to beggars? It was madness, girl.”
“It was not madness,” she protested, “I wanted to do something significant, something on my own. You have no idea what my life is like. Every waking moment or sleeping is rules and watched. I am not allowed to make the smallest decision governing my own life.”
“But giving jewels to beggars and strumpets?” Manelwen raised an eyebrow.
“The… the women were not part of my plan.” Tears welled up in Celebia’s large blue eyes, “I wanted to help the poor and who can be poorer than beggars?”
“Girl, did it not occur to you that you could be hurt,” Cimmerian grumbled, “If you had to help someone, why not ask your own servants? Surely they would know of people in need and then you could have sold a few jewels for money to help.”
Celebia snorted, “Even if all the servants would not tattle to father, where would I find a dealer in gems who would give me true value? More likely he would pretend to deal with me while he sent word to my father. That humiliation I can do without, thank you”
“Gem dealers would recognize you,” Manelwen said incredulously, “and know who your father is? Who is he? King Celebrand?”
Suddenly she eyed the two warriors like a fawn on edge of flight. “You will not take me back to him, will you?”
“And why should we not?” Cimmerian barked, “You’re not fit to walk the streets without a keeper, girl.”
“But then I’ll never keep him from finding out what happened today,” She shuddered, “And I -” Cimmerian clamped a calloused palm over her mouth, not breathing while he listened. Her eyes were large and liquid on his face.
It came again, that sound that had pricked his ear. The rasp of steel sliding from a sheath. Manelwen stiffened, hands on her twin sword hilts. The two warriors stepped out of the alley slowly, the girl behind them. Three men awaited them o the narrow street, swords bared. The sounds of boots behind made Cimmerian glance back quickly over his shoulder. Two more armed men stood there cutting off retreat.
The barbarian’s blade whispered from its worn shagreen scabbard; Manelwen, twin short swords flickering free, pivoted to face the two behind them.
“Stand aside,” Cimmerian called to the three facing him, “find you easier meat elsewhere.“
“Naught was said of an armed escort,” the one to Cimmerian’s right muttered, his thin, rat-like face twitching. The man to the barbarian’s left, shaven dome gleaming in the midday sunlight, hefted his sword uneasily; “We cannot take her without gutting them.”
“You’ll find but your death’s here,” Cimmerian warned.
The leader, for the tall, bearded man in the center, was clearly so, spoke for the first time. “Kill them!” he snarled, and his blade thrust for Cimmerian’s belly.
With panterhine grace the muscular barbarian moved aside, his blade easily deflected the thrust while his heavy booted foot planted itself solidly into the fellow’s crotch. In the same move Cimmerian’s dagger in his left hand beat aside shaven-heads thrust. Gagging, the leader attempted to straighten, but Cimmerian pivoted. His left foot taking the bearded man on the side of the head, knocking him under the feet of onrushing rat-face. Both went down in heap.
The shaven-headed attacker hesitated, goggle eyed at his companions on the ground and died for it. Cimmerian’s slashing steel half severing his throat, bright red blood fountained as he went down on his knees, then toppled to his face into the muck of the street. Rat-face scrambled to his feet and tried a desperate overhead hack. Cimmerian’s blade ran against the other, bringing it into a sweeping, descending circle, sliding his blade along his opponents, thrusting into the rogue’s chest. A quick kick next to his blade freed the body to collapse alongside the other. Cimmerian spun to face the leader, now back on his feet, his narrow, bearded face suffused with rage. He swung while the big barbarian was yet turning, staring with surprise as Cimmerian dropped to a squat, buttocks on heels. Cimmerian’s ancient steel sliced a bloody line across his poorly armoured abdomen. The tall, bearded man screamed like a woman, dropping his sword as his frantic hands tried vainly to hold his spilling intestines back in. His eyes were glazed with death before he hit the filthy paving stones.
Cimmerian looked back in time to see the Nacedian deftly sheathing her twin razor-sharp blades as the other two rogues writhed on the ground, vital arteries and muscle tissue strategically severed by accurate surgical strikes to ensure a painful, agonizing death. Manelwen smiled sardonically at Cimmerian, as if she enjoyed watching them die.
Cimmerian ignored her malicious look and bent to examine the pouches of the men he had slain. “They spoke of finding her alone,” he said, straightening form the bodies with twelve newly minted gold marks. He bounced them n his palm. “They were sent after her, by someone willing to pay twenty gold marks for her death or abduction.” He jerked his head at the two men Manelwen had killed. “You’ll find each of them has four of these too.”
Manelwen deftly emptied the pouched of her two victims, rising up with eight coins of new-minted gold. The assassin closed her fist over them, “ Yon rat face spoke of not expecting an armed escort. Who would pay twenty gold marks for a girl?”
Cimmerian turned to a dumbstruck Celebia. “Mayhap she is some wealthy lordling’s treasure whom a rival could use to his advantage. Tell us ,girl… so we may help you.”
Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, Celebia moved closer. “Just listen to me for a moment. Please… I…” abruptly she dashed past them into the adjoining street.
“Come back here, you fool girl,” Cimmerian roared, racing after her.
She dashed almost under the wheels of a heavy, crate filled cart, as was immediately hidden from view. Two more carts passed close behind with no room to squeeze between them. Cimmerian and Manelwen ran ahead of the carts and to the other side of the street, but Celebia was nowhere in sight.
“We can’t find her,” Manelwen muttered, “not in this crowd. She knows the city better than us.”
Cimmerian grunted assent and resignedly fell into step after the Nacedian toward the direction of the Serpent’s Kiss Inn.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Four
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Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Five---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here are even more excerpts, from Tale five this time. This fifth full-story adventure features some of the people I have met and interacted with here at the Bree forum among others. The full version, rated pg-13, all plotted and ready to be typed up, will be posted on www.fictionpress.com in the not to distant future.
If you like or dislike what you read here, please feel free to comment and criticise on the proper thread.
Re: EXCERPTS from THE ADVENTURES OF CIMMERIAN seriesThe Adventures of Cimmerian : Tale Five
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EXCERPT ONE
Chapter Two -
Blood oozed from body of man and beast alike, as the monster lumbered forward. Cimmerian stood firm, his broadsword at long last in his steeled grasp, prepared to kill… or die. And then, a great shudder seemed to run through the ape-thing’s gigantic frame. Its eyes grew glazed and filmy. It swayed uncertainly and then toppled to the ground, face first. It quivered once, and then lay still. And suddenly, Cimmerian knew why…
“The poison! I had forgotten the poison on the blade,” Cimmerian roared, relief and agony playing over his tired face all at once. “And now to make good the debt of my labours.”
He turned toward where Burahobutt had lain, but found the caterwauling character long gone. Grunting a curse under his breath, he strode over to the beast-god’s unharmed sacrifice.
“Hold still, girl,” he said gruffly, cutting free the twisted vines that held the hysterical Tilandra. “Don’t cry, for Mystra’s sake, the worst is over.”
But the young blonde could do nothing but collapse in shuddering sobs into his arms.
“Crom! I’ll never understand women,” the tall youth growled. But in the crude and cold valleyed land of his birth, the wise old men had another saying. ‘Women are not to be understood, but loved.’ So Cimmerian said no more, allowing the girl to cry out her pain and relief.
At length, Tilandra’s laboured sobbing turned to even, quiet breathing. For the moment, at least, she had found refuge from her fears in sleep. She will awaken, he silently vowed, on the far side of this oasis of hell. Then he will remove the slave bands from her arms and send her on her way… eventually. Presently she mad a pleasant armful, as he strode steadily northwest. The Cerantean border was not too far in that direction and he had friends in the decadent cities beyond.
When Tilandra awoke, she found herself surrounded by sights, sounds and smells of a busy marketplace. Fearing that she might be put up on a slave block again, she frantically sought for Cimmerian. Surely he would not sell her, she thought anxiously, not since he had risked his life to save her. Then she breathed a sigh of relief noting that the slave bands on her arms and ankles had been removed.
“You are a free woman,” Cimmerian said, squatting down beside the fur-lined cloak on which he had placed her sleeping form the night before. He handed her a freshly roasted ear of corn. “I have a friend here in Monsadini, she will give you work in her tavern… good, honest work.”
“My thanks,” Tilandra said slowly, then blushing slightly added, “How may I repay you?”
“Anyway that you wish,” Cimmerian smiled, eyeing her curves, then resignedly he added, “I have yet other matters to tend to here in this city, now that I am here.”
The Evening Star was arranged differently from the usual tavern. At some point in the past a fire had gutted the building. The ground floor, which had collapsed into the cellar, had never been re-constructed. Instead, a balcony had been built running around the inside of the building at street level, and the common room was now what had been the cellar. Even when the sun was high on the hottest day, the common room of the Evening Star remained cool.
From a place by the balcony rail just in front of the door, Cimmerian ran his gaze over the interior of the tavern, searching for a familiar female face and form. A few men stood on the balcony, some lounging against the railing with tankard in hand, and most bargaining with doxies for time in the rooms above stairs. A steady stream of serving girls trotted up and down stairs at the rear of the common room with trays of food and drink, for the kitchen was still on the ground level. Tables scattered across the stone floor held the taverns daily custom.
The ever-present trulls, their wisps of silks concealing no more than they did anywhere else in the city, strolled the floor. And as he had expected, Cimmerian could see the large, heavyset woman at her usual place behind the bar. The jolly, round faced woman looked toward him and excitedly waved a chubby arm.
“Cimmerian!” She called, ‘is that really you?”
“Aye, it is so,” Cimmerian laughed, sauntering down toward her, “and how keeps this fine place, Delgados?”
The fat woman stepped out from behind the bar, her heavy bosom heaving in her haste under the rich, silken robe of emerald green she wore. “Business couldn’t be better,” she beamed, and placing her hands on Cimmerian’s massive upper-arms, she gushed, “Mystra’s girdle, boy! Each time I see you, you grow even taller and broader.”
Cimmerian laughed raucously. “I am here to ask a favour, my dear friend.”
“Anything for you, my favourite barbarian,” Delgados laughed just as mirthfully, slipping a heavy arm around his waist.
“My newly acquired friend here,” Cimmerian smiled, gesturing at Tilandra, “is in need of a decent job and a place to stay.”
The round-faced woman eyed the blonde girl up and down, and then smiled, “She looks healthy enough for good, honest work. Tis done.”
“And I have another matter to discuss with you, Delgados… alone.” Cimmerian smiled boyishly as the plump woman feigned a frown and playfully slapped his left buttock.
Turning to Tilandra, the tavern-keeper said, “Go to the kitchens, lass. Seek out Kiesha and know of your chores. Your wages will be six coppers for a day’s work and a silver mark a week if you’re good. Food and a room are on the house.”
“Thank you,” Tilandra gushed, almost on the verge of tears, “Thank you so much.” With a happy, tearful look at Cimmerian the former slave girl skipped off toward the kitchen above stairs.
“Now then, Cimmerian,” Delgados took his calloused hands into her own plump ones, “To my private chambers. The matter you need discuss does involve gold, am I correct.”
“Aye, much gold,” the big barbarian grinned and allowed himself to be led into the room adjoining the bar.
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