Let me tell you, precious younglings,

how the tale of Duath Erin I Menel started.

Aye, the Shadow on the Sky.

Whom people now also call, the King beyond the Pale Mountains.

Where no one dares venture near,

years after the man himself has vanished.

Let me tell you,

how it could have ended.

Not in some grand palace, or a nobleman’s estate.

Not in a temple, dressed in liturgy’s garb.

Not in a famed city, or some infamous battlefield.

Not even from Luthos touch of luck.

Let me separate the vilest of lies from the truth,

But keep some of it obscure,

much as he would have preferred;

for we all started as simple creatures once,

young as much as foolish, fallible as much as imperfect.

Through calamity cometh the biggest glory, you’ll find out.

Through sorrow the grandest pleasure.

Greed always blinds a thief’s heart,

But what that heart holds dear, is never truly known, until its time comes.

Its innermost desires ever lurking hidden, even from a friend.

-

Fikumin Flintfoot

Jarl of all the Folk

First Servant of the Onyx Wyvern

Foremost Shield,

of the King beyond the Pale Mountains

Chapter I

(First page)

An Adventurer’s Tale

Circa 250 NC

Jinx

Leopard in the fog

-Battle of Hellfort’s Pass-

Part I

(A glorious end)

"DON'T MOVE YE LAZY CUNT!”

Jinx snarled frustrated, a leg dragging, blood trickling down her boot, making a splashing sound on every agonizing stride. Zola hissed an equally frustrated reply at the abuse and the injustice of it all, the Issir’s wound making it impossible to go any faster, on her own. So she had to carry her on her back. Gish are strong, she mused. But not as strong as fuckin' mules.

Behind them Kacie screamed her lungs out, a second later. A gut-wrenching cry that forced the Gish to glance back, although she didn’t want to. The girl had dropped to her knees, blood on the side of her face, not her own though, her father’s. The man himself thrown aside, legs and arms all a mess, after the warhorse trampled him over, a grotesque wound on his chest gapping and his ruined lungs easy, even for a blind ranger, to spot.

The Cataphract too.

Tall for a Cofol and clad in segmented armour, same as his horse that gleamed in the sun. The man pulled at the reins, the animal frothing at the mouth, after the charge, glanced at the despondent girl once and then towards them, still fifty meters away, rushing towards the bridge. The latter more than twice that away and as for the rushing part?

Ye can’t outrun a fuckin’ horse, like the blue cunt had said, Jinx thought, despair setting in.

“Get Zola over the bridge,” Dante ordered and stopped himself, breathing heavy and his face drenched in sweat.

“Fuck are ye sayin’?” Jinx snapped, almost tripping over her feet.

“I have a shield. Reckon I’ll try to stop him.”

“You? Ye think, yer some gods darn hero?”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of fuckin’ confidence,” Dante replied sourly.

“Twas no vote,” Jinx deadpanned.

“Can you just do as you’re told for once, Pretty?” He said, half-frustrated, half-pleading.

Jinx let out a sigh, licked her lips, a drop of sweat burning her right eye and stared at the distant bridge through the haze. There was a pile of cut redwood boards and trunks, about half-way to it, tall as her.

“Can you really stop him?” She queried and Dante burst out laughing, the strain breaking through in the end.

“I’ve got no fucking idea, darling. But if you got another plan, I’m all ears,” was his answer and Jinx nodded having none, then pushed herself to continue towards the pile of boards twice as fast.

“Let me down ye fool!” Zola hissed and Jinx hearing the warhorse trotting again, glanced back, her mouth dry and not in the mood to answer her. Dante had parked in the middle of the path, looking as gallant as she’d ever remembered him and twice as foolish. His shield in one hand, sword in the other, the clouds of smoke and heavy fire in the distance, framing the approaching Cataphract, in an ominous manner.

Fuck, Jinx cursed and pushed herself to the limit, darn Zola weighing a ton to support, not that she could tell her that.

Here and now.

They reached the tall pile of boards, just as the trot turned to a full charge for the last few meters, the ground shaking under her feet and Jinx dumped Zola unceremoniously behind them and turned bow in one hand, the other fishing for an arrow, to catch the tail end of it.

If someone had asked her that morning, how she imagined this afternoon would turn out, Whisper Jinx would have probably given a ton of different answers, some funny, most a bit kinky, but surely not this.

This was a nightmare.

Dante sidestepped at the last moment, to give himself time and the reach to use his sword, but the lance broke on his shield ruining it and hurled him away, so Jinx missed, whether he did or not. The Cataphract wailed something fierce, blood on his left thigh and pulled hard on the reins to stop his warhorse and turn it around, a long sabre already in hand. Jinx released, aiming for the only thing she could hurt at that moment, not fully covered in armour.

Her arrow caught the hapless horse a hair below the square opening of the Chamfron, bone tip plunging right through, that black eye spilling out, before going straight into the animal’s brain. It went down on its forelegs with an agonizing neigh and died there, bringing its rider down a moment later.

Jinx went for another arrow, just as the enraged Cofol got up, the killing of his horse hurting him more than his own injury and stared at her, with hate-filled eyes. It was the only human thing Jinx could see, all else hidden behind his visor shaped like a face-mask. The engraved smile on it hideous. The man cursed and started her way, with a freaked out Jinx drawing a blank from her quiver, as that darn thing had gone empty.

Better go all in girl, she thought, not trusting her shaking legs to run away.

“Ye fuckin’ cunt!” Jinx taunted the onrushing Cofol knight, reaching for her shortsword. The Cofol growled incensed and swung at her head, but Whisper wasn’t going to stand there and check whether she could bounce it off her forehead, or not. So she dodged left, stabbed him in the ribs instead and rolled away. Her blade slipped between the plates, but stopped at the chainmail the Cofol had underneath, causing little damage. Perhaps a bruised rib tops, she thought frustrated, rolling again, mud covering her clothes and her wound slowing her down.

Might as well kick him in ‘em jewels next time.

“How much armour have ye got on, huh?” She taunted to infuriate him some more, when another of her sneaky jabs found steel plate. The Cofol snarled something erotic to her in his ridiculous tongue and kicked her viciously, catching her arse end as she rolled out of the way. It was a bloody good kick, right at the fuckin’ cunt, Jinx thought. The Gish howled loud as she could, because she was scared as fuck, landing face first, drool, mud and blood, clogging her nostrils and revealing the absurdity of her plan.

The Cofol grabbed a still screaming Whisper by the hair and lifted her right up, as if she was weightless; plenty of hair got torn right off her scalp, because she wasn’t, the new pain snapping her back to the grim reality, as he turned her head, to have a better look at her. A stupid pebble in her eye forced her into a silly wink, reflected on that well-polished face-mask and when the man recoiled shocked, she headbutted him hard, face on plate.

Stupidest idea ever hatched by a Gish, since the Great Nyx himself tried to have sex with a Zilan huntress, using a flesh-eating plant for extra stimulus and the fool only lost a cock in the bloody process!

“Oi-ouch!” Jinx moaned wretchedly, head bouncing right back, cut on her forehead bleeding profoundly, but at least the stunned Cofol let go of her hair and dropped her down. Whisper landed on shaky legs, knees buckling and she fell back on her arse, too dazed to even speak, her face numb and her teeth hurting. The man stumbled back, but found his footing in a short moment, shook his head once to get his bearings and seeing her at his feet, raised his sword to cut her in half and rid himself of the trouble.

Whisper went from, fuck I’m fully dead; straight to hah, I’m saved ye cunt! in the time it takes to draw a good breath.

Fast.

A pale-faced Dante, appearing out of nowhere, had stabbed him under the armpit with his longsword, blade going in half-way into the Cofol’s chest, ruining his lungs and Dante left it there, when the man faltered away to collapse on his knees, a couple of meters away.

“Fuck where ye?” Jinx snapped, trying to get up still quite dazed and fully bleeding, but Dante pressed his lips tight in response, before going down on his knees himself. He’d half a meter of lance sticking out of his torso, just below the left side of his chest, the steel tip of it protruding out his back.

Jinx’s shoulders dropped, all anger gone. She knelt beside him frantically, her own pain forgotten and tried to pull the broken shaft out with both hands. Dante pushed her away weakly.

“Leave it,” The Captain of the Gallant Dogs said, froth gathering where his wound was, the chainmail torn, the blood slowly painting it a bright red. “Darn thing punched through the shield. I should have dodged earlier.”

Jinx glanced back towards the castle where the battle was raging, then further away where the barricade was still burning, saw the three armoured riders heading their way and breathed deeply, despair returning tenfold.

He was too heavy to carry.

Not both of them.

“Get over that bridge, Whisper. Don’t ruin this for me. And for fuck’s sake use it, to build up the company. Seriously, reckon I did something glorious here,” Dante pleaded and she turned to look at him, handsome face all pale, lips turning white from blood loss, on that wicked mouth. He smiled to hide his pain and Jinx felt tears rolling down her eyes. “Do you trust me?” The man asked, same words he’d used that day and she grimaced a wail lodged in her throat, her fists clenched and arms shaking. “Darling, you’ll be all right.”

No I won’t, she thought.

“What about you?” Jinx asked miserably, because deep down she knew, wiping her face from tears and blood, making a mess of it. Dante stared longingly over where the bridge was, still too far away and the river flowing all angry, covering all other sounds. She had to stoop closer, to listen to his words.

“Well, next time I say… we flip a bloody coin,” Dante Blackwood muttered, voice oddly colored by a hint of his famous razz, his face relaxing at the tail end of it, his eyes turning glassy. “Ye do it for me, Pretty.”