Blood of the Red

Chapter 40 - Ingold

Chapter 40 – Ingold

For four hundred years the heirs of the House of Rike had born this one sword. Handed down through fifteen generations. Forged in the Veydean Mountains by the smiths of Mytin. The winged hilt spoke of their passionate artistry. The rarest flavour of Sark iron formed the blade. Jamus of Rike had been the last of his line to wield it, and for nearly thirty years Ingold had carried the sword in his honour. Now, in his hour of need, Ingold called upon the aid of any magic buried in the ancient weapon.

At Ingold's bidding the sword lit. Flames raced along the blade, sparking into furious incandescence, white-hot and leaping. Ingold mounted no defence, his sole focus was to cleave Raymell limb from body. He charged with blinding speed, the rock igniting about him on every side. His rising swing trailed a fierce white arc.

Raymell caught the blade in his open hand. With one sharp twist he broke the sword in two. The careless sweep of his arm caught Ingold on the left side. Ribs shattered, and Ingold flew a good ten yards before his harsh reunion with the rocky ground.

For several long moments Ingold floated in a painless world, pleasantly confused but with the nagging feeling he should be doing something else. When he opened his eyes, blood obscured his vision. Ingold struggled to his knees. He wiped his face, pressing with his fingers to stanch the deep cut in his forehead. Not far away Gartus closed on Raymell. Bones in the big man's back glistened white through a gory mess of muscle. Raymell waited patiently, crouched almost frog-like on the stump of a broken stalagmite.

Gartus's jaws opened wide, and fire vomited forth in a projectile stream. More than fire, what he spewed out was liquid, molten, a rushing inferno of unspeakable heat. Not satisfied, Gartus charged into the fiery maelstrom, huge fists flying. For a second the flames concealed both combatants. Ingold caught a glimpse of the two, locked in a contest of strength, then the fire hid them. A moment later Gartus crashed out, sprawling to the floor, his right arm twisted at a stomach-turning angle with a thick stock of jagged bone protruding.

The receding flames revealed Raymell, he shook off droplets of fire like a dog. Drunk with his own strength. His laughter echoed.

"This is the power of Old. This is the stuff of legend. You cannot hope to stop me!"

Raymell advanced on Gartus. The big man lay, struggling weakly, his scales dull. Ingold snatched up a chunk of broken rock. As he ran to attack, he threw it at Raymell's head. The Arkasian slapped the missile aside and turned to greet Ingold with a dark smile.

Raymell did nothing to prevent Ingold's hands fastening about his neck. Ingold felt a moment of doubt as his fingers locked about the man's throat. Raymell made no move. With strength enough to crush stone Ingold began to squeeze. He found no give in the flesh beneath his hands. Raymell reached up and a vice-like grip shut off Ingold's air. Iron fingers crushed vein and artery against bone, sealing them shut. Ingold's vision swam, his head filled with red fuzz. Dimly he heard Gartus's voice,

"Dain! No!"

And the sound of a splash. It was just a splash, a stone hitting a pond; his dying mind had lost the power to connect the noise to his situation. Suddenly the dreadful pressure at his throat vanished. He hit the ground and his head bounced from the rock. There was no pain.

Ingold's vision had grown dark, but from where he lay he could see the glowing surface of the Blood pool. Patterned by ripples. He could see Raymell from behind, silhouetted as he rushed to the edge. It seemed to Ingold that ground shook beneath him, that tremors ran through the bedrock and the whole cavern trembled in anticipation.

Dain emerged from the shallows, clothed in the dark crimson of the Blood. The stuff ran from him like water from oiled cloth. By the time he stood ankle deep, no mark or stain of the Blood remained. He seemed bright, lit by a different light, purged. Raymell's howl of rage came to Ingold as if from a distance. Fire and lightning erupted from his hands. It crashed down onto Dain, falling all about him in a blinding display of destruction. The Blood surged, rocks split and flew, the child was lost from sight. With great effort Ingold rolled his head to watch the light show on the cavern roof far above. It's alright, I'm dreaming, that didn't happen. His thoughts came softly to him.