章 11: Chapter 11
Dane beheaded a ghoul, pushed it toward Atticus, and slipped under another's revolting arm. His sword spun, relieving the ghoul of its left leg. It lost its balance and leaned on its remaining foot, its arms grabbing Dane's tunic. He brought his arms up to his ear, his sword raising to meet the rotting fingers as his foot snaked behind its own and pulled, tripping it. Its fingers spurted blood on his face as it fell back first. Dane decapitated it before it fell to the floor.
They had lost ten more men to the vicious assault. On the other hand, they had reaped the lives of nearly forty ghouls. Sir's brilliant fireballs were responsible for most of the slaughter. More than half of them had died at his hands. That was not to say Atticus had done nothing. His terrifying blade rent flesh like silk.
Dane had rendered almost half the ghouls that fell to Atticus's hands useless by himself. The soldiers looked at him with a hint of reverence in their eyes. Dane did not know how to feel about that. It felt right, mostly. He was used to such looks by now. But another part of him felt undeserving.
It left a small hollow pit in his stomach, seemingly eating away at him. He felt so guilty. The one who had made him what he was, the reason he received their reverent looks, was dead because of him. He clenched the hilt of the longsword tightly. His right hand pushed while the left pulled. The blade cleaved through a ghoul's arm. Dane moved forward.
His left hand released the sword's hilt and grabbed the ghoul's throat, pulling it closer. He brought the pommel down on its head. Again. And again. And again.
The creature could not find even a moment's respite. Its brittle teeth cracked and fell off, and its face deformed in odd angles. The bones around its luminescent eyes broke and pulled the eye muscles taut, closing them. Dane's face was dark with anger. His green eyes bore holes through the ghoul.
He slammed the pommel into its skull one last time and turned around. He pushed it, sending it tumbling backward into the dim light of the path. It shone like a star as it fragmented into dust.
The Spell finally spoke to him.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Tainted Corpse.]
He did not receive a memory. Dane clicked his tongue in disappointment.
The last ghouls were on their last legs. They burned orange and shone dimly, turning to ash and dust.
Dane called out to Atticus. "Up the stairs, now?" he asked.
Atticus nodded and went on to behead another.
From the corner of his eye, Dane saw a man. He was without eyes, crawling blindly, his arms stretching out on the floor ahead. He was crawling toward the darkness to the side of the path. He smeared blood on the rock below him.
Dane's heart almost stopped. He shouted, "Stop! Don't!"
But it was too late. He reached into the darkness, his hands falling onto a ghoul's feet, clutching tightly. Its glowing eyes shook and stared at him. Dane saw its contemplation all too clearly. To not kill, or to kill. To stay by the path and stare forever at the door or to maim.
It was taller and sturdier than all the ghouls the host had battled yet, and so were all of its companions. They had long and deadly claws growing from their pale blue skin.
It hunched slowly, a light of hunger rooting itself in its ominous eyes.
The man breathed heavily. "Help me, please! I can't see," he cried.
Its snout-like mouth curled to reveal dreadful fangs, sharp and thin like needles. It caressed the man's head softly.
The man smiled joyfully. Then the claws touched his face.
The man's mouth opened in confusion. Its hands glided down his face to his neck. His hands shook, slowly raising themselves to his neck as its inhuman touch finally registered.
"What," was all the man could say, still in shock.
Dane did not need to shout out to warn the soldiers.
The creature's claws dug into his neck, and he screamed, his voice echoing through the rocky cavern. It pulled, and his head came clean off. If his scream did not compel most of the ghouls standing next to it, the fresh blood raining on them did.
Everyone turned to look. A brilliant ball of flame rose to illuminate the dark corner. A head dripping with blood was halfway inside a ghoul's mouth, its needle-like teeth mincing it. Brain matter dribbled onto the floor. A hundred glowing eyes gazed at the sight. Their eyes shook as they turned their heads. A hundred eyes locked onto the host.
"Run!" Atticus screamed.
The host scrambled toward the dim light. Some slipped over blood and fell. The ghouls were already upon them. One of them pounced at Dane. It was terribly fast. He swung his sword in response, single-handedly. He was so close to the light. He just had to get there.
The thing's sharp claws rose and met the blade. Dane groaned from the impact, almost losing balance. He reacted at the same time it did. He pushed, exerting pressure on the creature's arm, moving it to the side as it swung with its other hand. The sword screeched as it slid off the claws and whipped toward its face.
His reach was greater. The sword embedded itself into the creature's throat, pushing it back slightly. Its fierce claws dragged across his flesh from the top of his right shoulder diagonally down to the center of his chest. It staggered backward, his blood gushing out on it.
Dane fell backward into the dimly lit path as the creature regained balance. It ran toward him, almost entering the light. Realization flashed in its reptilian eyes as it halted immediately, stopping shy of the dim light.
It stood right over Dane, separated by a thin boundary of light. The sword in the ghoul's throat crossed the border, gleaming lightly.
Dane's hand shot forward before he could think. He firmly grasped the hilt and pulled, angling his arm diagonally.
The creature's throat was too thick, and Dane had no balance or power in his arm, weakened. It did not slice through its neck. But the pull was strong enough to tug at it.
The creature crossed the boundary. It crumbled into dust on top of him, falling on his face. He closed his eyes in disgust.
[You have slain a dormant monster, Sullied Corpse.]
[You have received a Memory.]
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