Knights of the Atrocity (closed)

Chapter Six

The three Atrocity raiders had ridden all night after abducting the infant from Keilvespar Castle in Steepleward.  Their mounts staggered up the North Durbridge Road and were greeted by six horsemen waiting off to the side of the deserted road.

"Hethas, any pursuit?" called Aenghous Barratt, one of the six Atrocity Knights sent to rendezvous with the raiders by Seraath Asbegath.

"None. Chancellor was good on his word about the Watch," said Hethas, the shortest of the three approaching riders.  He squeezed a squirming infant in his left arm. 

"Threw some light defense at us to keep the Respenval family off Kakkag's back, but we basically walked in the front door and took the child; Princess made a hell of a racket though. Dark imps cut down any pursuit." 

"The old man?" asked Aenghous, as he dismounted, walked over and reached up to clasp wrists with Hethas.   

"Wurrel sliced him up. Took his eyes for Seraath's collection. Decrepit bastard won't bother us anymore," said Hesta grinning towards the broad shouldered warrior seated next to him. 

"Morvick, switch mounts with Wurrel and go back to stay in Wicklorn with Hethas and Bilch. You and your sorry, one-eyed, worthless hide owe me for this one. Tell Innari I'll be back to see her soon and don't drink the damn Boggin dry. Look for us when you're called back to Hengemont," said Aenghous. 

Wurrel dismounted, took the infant from Hethas and wearily threw himself up on the fresh horse. 

"Anything happening in Wicklorne?" asked Hethas. 

"Things have calmed down after the riot a few weeks ago. Knights had to rip out a few throats to get it back under control; now half the town runs when they see us, other half bends down to lick our boots," said Aenghous. 

Aenghous, Wurrel, the wailing infant and four others turned and started east towards the Barren Lands. 

Hethas led Morvick and the other rider back up the moonlit North Durbridge Road towards Wicklorne. 

"See you back at Hengemont," called Aenghous.  

After traveling about ten miles through the Barren Lands on the Hindendamm Causeway, Wurrel swayed in the saddle and signaled to Aenghous that he needed to rest at the approaching day-shelter.  The three untacked their horses, ate a quick meal and were asleep within minutes. 

There was no need to keep watch in the Barren Lands, as this blighted land was only traveled by those loyal to The Atrocity. The wastelands stretched from Wicklorne, in the east end of Evencorte, to the base of the Hengemont fortress, and had remained uninhabited by man or beast for many years.  The destruction of the land began about forty years earlier, when three Magi took advantage of a weakened Avrenhalde after the War of Reckoning, and in a reach for absolute power, sent a magical avalanche of disease and decay cascading throughout the continent.  All plant and animal life became contagions, transferring the Mortus Blight to the furthest corners of the world. Birds fell from the sky, raining down in countless numbers, plants and trees withered away into blackened trunk, stem and leaf, and men became gray, rotting, grotesque mockeries of life. 

The creeping doom spread slowly at first, mostly unnoticed, but after a number of year accelerated and threatened to overtake all forms of life. 

The other Magi of Avrenhalde put differences aside, rallied together, and were able to stop the outbreak and defeat the usurpers at the heart of where their power lay, Crescent Cairn. The land never did recover, giving it the name it bears today.

After the carnage ended and the spread of disease turned back, a group of Stone Mages, under the guidance of Seraath Asbegath, spent years raising the fifty mile Hindendamm Causeway across the sickened land. The raised ridgeway spanned the countless ravines and deep gorges, dodging toxic cesspools and acid pits, and skirting the quagmires and bottomless bogs. 

The statehoods of Avrenhalde, in their weakened condition, deferred accountability, turned a blind eye to rumors of stirrings in the heart of the Barren Lands, and slept as darkness began to creep back out of the deep, shadowy recesses. 

The six Knights emerged from the Causeway hut at first light and traveled the remaining forty miles across the winding stone path over the next two days, finally arriving at the foot of Hengemont, the stronghold of Seraath Asbegath and his Knights of the Atrocity. 

Hengemont towered over the six riders, rising out of the wasteland like a wraith emerging from the grave. Groupings of spiked stones burst out of Ista Mirnsbenn, the highest peak on the southernmost point of the Nattenberg Spurs range.  After a long ascent up a winding path carved into the face of the mountain, the three were admitted into Hengemont and waded through a flurry of activity in the meticulously constructed cavern center. Workers scurried from one end to the other, dashing in and out of connecting tunnels.

Wurrel and the hysterical infant took leave of the rest of the party and made their way through long cut stone labyrinths to Seraath's chambers in the heart of the stronghold.  The guards stepped aside and Wurrel entered to find Seraath waiting just inside the door.  Without a word he violently grabbed the child by the wrists and held out her hands with palms facing up. 

Staring at him from each of the tiny hands was a bright blue eye.