Chapter 24
Captain Denzel Cole, Standing Stern Against Doom
The never-ending chill in the crisp air preserved the crushed remains of Sir Isaac's skull. Even after three dreaded days, the Beast hadn't bothered to gather the shattered skull. Place it on another crude spike and add it to the gruesome fence four hundred yards away from the ridge.
And no one dared brave the deep holes or miniature ridges to fetch it for a proper burial.
Not even the shivering blond private whose dreams of the heroic Isaac were crushed so recently.
The eerie silence of the snow-capped mountains was far worse than the hallow windy howls that typically haunted Storm Killer. Every crackle and bang made by the captain's men echoed out everywhere. The groans of stomachs empty.
Too nauseous to eat their last breakfast of mushy oatmeal and cured bacon.
While the army beyond the curve in the pass remained silent and unseen. Only their horrible cry once they arrived over a month ago proved their presence.
But this tall ridge blocked the one and only usable passage through the mountains. Every man here was now stationed on top. Either with blades or bows. Their lycan pelts no longer could keep the cold from chilling them.
Keep them from visibly shivering.
Because the inevitable battle was about to begin.
The moment the Beast appeared. Challenged them to send their last Champion against it.
To crush their last hope.
The fence of skulls would certainly be destroyed today. Along with humanity's last hope of survival. The grey sky as gloomy as Captain Denzel Cole himself.
Even with the sun taunting them with enough light to see their own end.
The taste of their inevitable defeat as bitter as the wine turned vinegar, he forced his son to drink in the vain hope of breaking his terrible habit of overdrinking.
But his son was long dead. The lycan would of found and slaughtered him years ago.
Soon the captain would join the rest of his family in the afterlife.
Because the Princes already sent a message. No other champions remained except one. Currently, a Paladin named Felix. The greatest of his generation and too far to the south to ever hope to reach here in time.
Unless a wizard aided him.
Their only hope now.
Shattered when the dreaded inhuman roar broke out before the ridge.
The Beast emerged from a system of holes of ridges so deep it hid the massive ratman. A creature twice the height of the tallest of men. Brawn so massive lifting a stallion would be child's play. Even if it wore the sturdiest armor in all of the Four Realms.
It raised its curved claws high. Reminding everyone here those claws were like short daggers capable of stabbing through the hardest steel.
Its black fur groomed into sharp spikes larger and thicker than before. Its huge fangs gleamed in a sadistic grin.
And yet again, it’s even blacker pants were clean and unwrinkled. Not a speck of filth on its crimson vest with golden spirals.
Not a sign of the blood and brains that splattered out of Sir Isaac's head three days ago.
On its back was its colossal battle axe. With the wilted yellow skull blade glaring over the Beast's shoulder.
But this time it was not alone.
An army of ratman swarmed out of the deep holes and ridges behind it. All smaller yet just as vicious. Their armor black and weapons huge. Each clanging as loud as their catcalls.
“Bring forth your last challenger!” exclaimed the Beast, “Do that and I grant you a few more moment for your menfolk to quiver in fear. For you woman to wail at their future fate as our slaves. And mourn your children before my kind roast and feast on them all!”
Captain Denzel Cole didn't speak. His throat clenching. Mouth drying.
Not even wine turned vinegar could taste so bitter.
The sudden silence of the next moment crushed him. Slid past as slow as an avalanche of gooey slime.
The Beast pointed up at Captain Denzel Cole. Matched by every beady eye of its rat army.
Then sneered wicked.
“Send that man down here,” said the Beast, “I will grant your one and only leader left a chance to save his pathetic kind. The Princes …”
The Beast sniggered. The looming peaks echoing the throaty dark chuckles even louder.
And amplified by every ratman behind it.
“They and their men fell quick to my apprentices,” the Beast said, “As did the Earth Wizard and his Paladins in Chemarin. No Champions remain. No wizards. Just you and your pathetic ragtag –”
A bright flash blinded everything with pure white.
Yet vanished as quick as it appeared.
Revealing a new challenger.
Within the gray pass utter silence reigned supreme. As heavy and chilly as the air. With the stink of death fouled only by the stench of rat. So thick anyone even with the numbest of tongues could taste it.
Since the army of ratmen crowding the pass below might be one storm that Storm Killer might not kill.
Especially with the dreaded promise that even more darklings remained hidden in the deepest holes.
Yet the captain could only blink a few times at the sight of the newcomer.
A young man in the black suave coat and pants of a Paladin. Standing tall and proud nearly a dozen feet in front of the ratman. A saber strapped to his waist. His hair a black crow's nest.
A stark contrast to the three lycan females crouched behind the Paladin. An orange tigress that – from her pose and slight yet trained movements – experience told the captain she could cut down plenty of soldiers. Maybe even dodge the rain of bolts that would soon shower down from the ridge.
The two white vixens with blue highlights – clearly some kind of exotic bred at the pelt farms and somehow managed to escape alive.
Yet the three lycan positioned themselves like guards behind the Paladin. Not as his mortal enemies.
The ratman's gawk was frozen on its face. Just like his shocked brethren.
Until the Paladin spoke.
“So you want to face a real man?” asked the Paladin.
That voice … Captain Denzel Cole gasped. Almost gasped. But his throat was so clenched it silenced him.
But not the pounding in his ears.
Or the razors shredding his insides over pending death of his dear son Ash. This army of ratmen wouldn't even leave a bone behind.
But none of the humans here would leave remained behind. These monsters could feast on their corpses till nothing was left.
The captain was sure of it.
“Any idiot with a sword could charge you. Or throw magic at you if they're a wizard,” said Ash, “But let's duke this out the way only the toughest of men could ever dream of … a way that kills lesser men simply for trying … a way not even the greatest of Champions – or darklings – could handle … can you?”
If the captain could speak, he'd scream out a warning. Point out the glimpses of the fence of skulls was all from champions crushed by the monster before him. Even if it was now mostly hidden by these darklings.
In the utter silence his voice would reach his son. Give the boy a sliver of a chance to prepare.
The Beast blinked.
Its brow furrowed.
Then snorted.
“Bring forth this 'impossible' challenge,” said the Beast, “And when I crush you, you will kneel and despair as I kill slow and painful. Then destroy the rest of your kind.”
Then the Beast waved its hand at the fence of spiked skulls. His henchmen moving aside to reveal it.
“Then add you to my lovely collection,” it said.
“Fine by me,” said Ash, “Ending as a work of art … not the worst thing possible.”
Captain Denzel Cole couldn't help but gulp. His dry mouth crackling.
What was the foolish boy thinking to say that?
Ash reached into his pants pocket and slipped out a steel flash.
“First one to finish downing this flash and remain standing wins,” he said. Then swing it up. Chugged down two gulps.
Then released a sigh.
A burp.
Then tossed it to the Beast.
Who caught it easily.
Its expression as scornful as the captain's own whenever his dear idiot of a son tried to drown his problems with alcohol and inevitably failed. The harsh whispers from the darkling army – they would slaughter everyone here in the worst ways possible.
“I suggest only one sip at a time,” said Ash, “Maybe two if you're brave enough.”
But the Beast snorted again. Its eyes now deep bloody red.
Enough to sink the captain's heart down to his knees.
“Liquor?” asked the Beast, “Such a pathetic game.”
“Then finish it,” said Ash, “But don't say I didn't –”
The Beast throw the whole flash in its mouth. Crunched it apart and gulped it down.
And chuckled.
“I will salvage your lycan body guards for this,” said the Beast. Wrought its claws at them.
Its huge body looming higher. Arched and marching toward the fool of a boy. The claws on its feet scrapped the hard rock loudly.
A countdown for the end of humanity.
And all Captain Denzel Cole could do was grip his blade ever more tightly. Wait for the rest of the ratmen army to charge.
To break the ridge that would soon no longer hold the name Storm Killer.
“Their female bodies … especially the Ivy Reap's,” said the Beast, “They will bear some of my young before I roast you and your lycan aliiive –”
The Beast stumbled. Its foot landing on the ground yet its legs acting as it if it missed.
A snarl erupted louder than any creature before it.
“What kind of poison is this?!” shrieked the Beast, “I am immune to all those pathetic deadly tricks!”
“Not poison,” said Ash, “Just liquor so powerful it's called the Final Chug.”
The boy might as well kick his father in the gut. That legendary liquor literally killed the people who drank it. Only the sturdiest of alcoholics managed to survive more than a few gulps. Most men passed out drunk merely from breathing the fumes too much.
Yet the soldiers on the ridge … their shoulders no longer drooped.
The ratmen … their faces now tense and jittering.
“You …” growled the Beast.
And stumbled again. Falling to its knees several feet before Ash.
Then lunged at him.
“Die!” screamed the Beast.
Yet Ash didn't move.
No.
The orange tigress flew at the ratman. Grabbed the arm of the massive monster. Twisted and turned her lithe body. Ramming herself into it.
Flipping the ratman over Ash.
And the Beast crashed into the ground behind the boy. Gurgling and choking. Struggling to climb to its feet.
Blood pooling beneath it.
When the Beast shuttered.
Then collapsed.
A few moments later, every soldier on the ridge cheered louder than any army of darklings.
The ratmen edged back. Eyes wide. Despite their thick black armor, their huge weapons lowered.
When a new roar erupted behind Storm Killer.
And the screams united as one shout of darkling doom.