From lofty perches within the thick walls of their mighty castles, kings sent destruction spiraling into the villages out of mere boredom. The earth flowed with the blood of men and women who had entrusted their lives to those who sought to bring them pain. It was a dark time for mankind. A cloud of despair hung over the earth, drenching men in it's murky rain.
In the far north, a massive stronghold towered high into the dark sky. It's thick black shadow stretched over the tiny villages below, encasing them in a nearly constant darkness. Deep within it's seemingly impenetrable walls lived a heartless beast of a man. The evil King Laordlen's rule extended throughout all the lands of the north. Several kings ruled beneath him, but none would ever dream of crossing him. They were all his humble servants. There wasn't a man who would dare challenge to him...
Several miles north of the mighty fortress, nestled along the rugged coastline, lay a small village. It was within this tiny community that four mighty brothers were born and raised. The first born, Urech, had perfected the art of the blade. He strode through the streets with his fathers powerful longsword at his belt. There was not a man for miles that could defeat him in a duel. Urech made his living as a village guard. He spent his evenings patrolling the streets.
Lyndin was the second born. There was nothing terribly special about him. At a very young age he had mastered the art of thievery. His life often depended on his ability to outmaneuver and outsmart the enemy. He spent his days wandering the nearby towns, robbing hapless travelers and stealing from caravans. Despite his bad reputation, Lyndin was loved by his brothers. Any of them would have gladly given his life to protect him.
The largest of the four was Migram, the third born. His entire body was cloaked in thick muscle. From an early age, he had learned the importance that strength held in the real world. There was never a time when Migram did not have work. Someone always needed a hand lugging things around town or turning an arrogant man or two into bloody heaps of flesh. Migram was an important figure in the village, everyone looked up to him. His brute strength and sheer intelligence was enough to bring any argument to a quick end.
The youngest of the brothers stood barely five feet tall and at first glance was no more threatening than a heap of dirt. Yet Marcus was the most dangerous of them all. Underestimated from the day he was born, Marcus quickly learned to use his mind and his agility to their full extent. He could disarm Urech in a duel within the first lunge. He pick Lyndin's pocket with ease or even wrestle the mighty Migram to the ground without breaking a sweat. But when it came down to it, horseback riding and archery were his two untouchable skills.
All their lives, the four brothers had watched as King Laordlen brought misery to the lands he ruled. As time passed, they had grown to hate the King more and more. This hatred was fueled steadily over the years until one day, it became a full fledged rage.
All four brothers were traveling together, bound for a village several days south of their own. There was a large market set up just outside of the village and each of the men had gold to spend. They talked as they rode, sharing their recent adventures with each other. The market was only a day away, yet the journey seemed to have just begun. Such was the joy they shared, to be in one anothers company for so long was truly a rare and privileged occasion. The years had brought them farther and farther apart; Lyndin spent most of his days on the road, Urech and Marcus had joined a secret army of mercenaries, Migram spent much of his time working aboard merchant ships. Life and duty had begun to pull them away from each other and out into the real world.
Yet there were always times like this when they could join forces and venture out together.
At noon they arrived in Stabsford, a town that lay only hours away from the market. The minute they entered the town they knew something important was happening. Silence hung in the air like an ominous blackness.
As they made their way down the streets, Lyndin muttered something foul under his breath. He had seen this before. The dead silence and the scent of evil meant only one thing. Laordlen was here.
Marcus nodded to a small crowd ahead, "How kind of him." he mocked. "He's come down to mingle with the peasants."
Urech snickered darkly, "Perhaps someone will slaughter him like the pig he is."
The comments ended abruptly as the four dismounted and strode quietly to the rear of the crowd. They watched in utter hatred as Laordlen began selecting women from the crowd. This was a common practice, to personally gather slaves that would serve him until their deaths. Urech glanced around and whispered to Migram, "He has only a dozen men... If this pitiful village had any guts they would overrun him."
Migram nodded, "Aye but you can be sure his entire army is within five minutes march of here."
"Kill the leader and they are helpless." Lyndin growled.
Marcus said nothing. His eyes were on one of the maidens that Laordlen had selected. He frowned and turned to Lyndin, "She is too beautiful to die in his prison." The woman's eyes were filled with tears, yet she remained silent, fearing for her life.
Lyndin only nodded.
"I will not stand for it." Marcus muttered.
"You must." Migram replied softly.
"How much longer can we ignore this brute? With each second another innocent life is taken. I cannot allow it."
Migram frowned, "Those are fighting words."
Marcus grinned, "I will not bow to this beast a moment longer. I will rescue this girl and show my defiance."
Lyndin stepped forward, "All right. Why not?" He paused, "If we move quickly we can escape without a scratch. I doubt the noble Laordlen will pursue us over one maiden."
Marcus clapped his brother on the back and smiled, "Who else is with me?"
Urech shrugged, "I've always wanted to be a hero."
"Of course I'm with you," Migram grunted.
They swiftly mounted their steeds. Lyndin's face was lit with exhilaration, to him it was all a game. A contest to see how much he could get away with. But that was how Lyndin lived, from one close-call to another, always testing the boundaries. He turned to his brothers, "Marcus, you snatch up the girl, we will ride east. There we will find some caverns to hide in. Ride fast and don't look back."
Without another word, Lyndin spurred his horse and broke through the crowd. Dagger in hand, he headed straight toward Laordlen. The evil King's eyes went wide with terror, he opened his mouth to shout something... In the distance, someone cried out "Assassin!"
At that moment Marcus, Migram and Urech broke through the crowd. They rode toward the small regiment of solders that guarded the King's newly selected slaves. Marcus deftly reached out and pulled the maiden up from the ground. She landed smoothly on the saddle behind him.
Lyndin pulled a dagger from his belt and plunged it into the King's left arm. Blood spurted into the air... The air was suddenly filled with Lyndin's mocking laughter.
All at once, the four brothers were riding east. Urech's sword was dripping with fresh blood and his face shone with sheer pleasure. Migram held a newly acquired battle ax in one hand and a bloodied spear in the other. They rode like there was no tomorrow, all too aware that the King's men were in heated pursuit. Through the entirety of the journey, the maiden remained silent, studying the four men that had risked their lives to rescue her.
At last they arrived at the caverns.
Lyndin picked out a gaping cave and they set up camp.
Urech was the first to speak, "Laordlen isn't going to let this slip."
Migram nodded at Lyndin, "Not after you tore his arm open like that."
"You live but once." Lyndin sneered.
"Well now we've got to move. Stopping here is a bad move. They'll be upon us by nightfall." Marcus said quietly.
"Thank you." came a soft voice.
They all turned to face the girl. She only smiled, "Thank you for saving me."
Lyndin grinned sarcastically and jabbed Marcus in the arm, "It was his bleeding idea."
She turned to Marcus and smiled softly.
There was a moment of silence. Migram stood to his feet, "Get the horses. We must ride."
They rode through the night, across the length of the canyons and the jagged cliffs. The King and his men would be at least a day behind as long as they kept moving. As the journey progressed, Marcus and the girl talked. Her name was Miyra, she had been taken from her village in the far south over a week ago. Laordlen had slaughtered her family before her very eyes. Her hatred for the tyrant was far deeper than Marcus could fathom. When the morning sun broke through the horizon, they came to a stop.
"We have the advantage now." Migram stated. "We can smuggle ourselves away by sea. By now there are solders at every city, each of them looking for us."
The others nodded.
"The village is only a few hours west of here." Migram began, "I will go and arrange for a ship rendezvous with us just north of the city. I will return at nightfall and we shall make our escape."
"Have we the time?" Urech asked.
"I hope so," Migram said solemnly, "Because it is our only chance."
"I shall go." Marcus spoke up. "You are more recognizable than I."
Lyndin smiled, "This is true."
"All right." Migram growled. "You have a point."
Urech quickly pointed out a deep cavern "We will wait in there. Hurry."
Marcus nodded, "I shall return before nightfall."
Miyra looked up, her eyes meeting his, "Be careful." She said softly.
Marcus' heart pounded in his chest. Without another word he set off for the village. The journey seemed to take forever, it seemed like an eternity had already passed when Marcus finally rode into the village. He noted that there were solders every where, but he would not be noticed. He had always been invisible.
He made his way for the shipyard.
"We're in trouble." Urech muttered. "The sun's beginning to set."
Lyndin nervously fingered his dagger. "Then we shall die in battle."
It was silent for only a moment. "Get as deep into the caves as you can." Migram whispered to the maiden. "There will be trouble. You will be safe if you hide."
She nodded and made her way into the deeper reaches of the cave.
As soon as she vanished from sight Urech spoke, "Marcus had better hurry."
Lyndin laughed, "Yes, I wouldn't want him to miss the action."
Migram stood to his feet, griping his massive battle ax. "Here they come."
It wasn't the largest army they had seen. Only fifty men. But the King Laordlen rode solemnly at their flank, his eyes burned with rage.
"Well he's not too happy." Lyndin mumbled.
The three brothers stepped out into the open. Migram growled, "Father would be proud."
Urech nodded slowly, "I want Laordlen's head."
In the moments before the attack there was an unspoken vow between the brothers. It would be a fight to the finish. They would not stop for anything. Lyndin chuckled softly, "We live but once."
The enemy solders rushed in like a pack of roaring banshees.
Migram raised his ax and shouted with the fury of the gods. The battle began.
Blood sprayed into the air as the three brothers tore into the opposition. Limbs flew, flesh ripped open and bodies dropped. Yet all three brothers stood strong, fighting like a group untouchable cherubim. One after another, the solders fell to the ground, gasping for air.
Yet with each solder that tasted steel, another leapt into the fray. Wave after wave poured in to fight. Lyndin shrieked, groping at the gaping stump where his arm had been only moments ago. He fell to his knees and closed his eyes. Something struck him across the skull. An unfathomable blackness rushed in from all corners of his perception.
Urech cried out in rage at the sight of his fallen brother. He swung his longsword about like a madman, splitting solders open left and right. Blood splashed out across his tunic and he grinned like the devil himself.
Beside him stood Migram. His battle ax flashed through the air like a bolt of lightning. The thick blade passed through enemy solders as though they were made of paper. Steaming heaps of flesh fell to the ground at his feet, pound after pound.
The sound of tearing flesh filled the air as the two remaining brothers went to work. Urech suddenly dropped his sword and collapsed, a fresh hole in his back side. He twitched silently on the ground and lay still.
Anger course through Migram. Like a raging demon a sent his ax into solder after solder, shouting curses through the air. A blade struck his right leg, yet he felt no pain. Another blade found itself plunged into Migram's shoulder. The big man did not flinch.
He backed up slowly. Stepping inside the cave, solders all around him. A sudden strength poured through his body. Migram raised his ax and shouted victoriously. With all his might, he swung the massive blade through the air. It passed through two solders and struck the rock wall.
Laordlen watched in horror as the cave collapsed upon nearly a dozen of his men, crushing them like insects. And then all was silent. His eyes narrowed and he shouted and order, "I want their heads! And I want the girl! NOW!"
Marcus spurred his horse as he came up over the hill. His eyes went wide at the cruel sight before him. King Laordlen sat comfortably upon his black horse, shouting orders to his men. The destruction was clear, the loss was evident. He was too late.
"I will take you with me, Laordlen!" Marcus shouted.
He swiftly pulled out his bow and dropped and arrow into the quiver. He noted that they had pulled the maiden from cave and were in the process of bringing her to the King. He drew back his bow and let the first arrow fly. It struck the solder who held his sword at the maiden's throat. Before he hit the ground, a second arrow had hit home. One by one, Marcus took down any solder that dared to venture near to the maiden. His eyes locked onto hers as another solder went crashing to the ground. He mouthed the word, "Run."
A single tear slid down her cheek. She turned sadly and ran.
He released the air just as he was flung from his horse. As he tumbled through the air, towards the mass of solders, he watched the arrow approach it's target... Laordlen. He knew that he would die the minute he struck the ground.
The arrow slammed into the evil King's throat. Blood spurted into the air and Laordlen crashed lifelessly to the ground.
Marcus smiled inwardly. It was over.
He landed face first on the dusty ground. They were upon him before he could react. The sound of steel tearing through flesh echoed through the air. Marcus twitched slightly, a sword through his lower back, a sword through his right shoulder blade and a sword through his skull. Like a crisp blue wave lapping up on an ocean shore, blackness poured in all around him.
The news of Laordlen's death spread quickly. Before the next sun could set, the massive castle that once housed the evil man lay in ruins. The darkness lifted from the land and misery scattered to the hills. And once again, the living began to live.
Copyright © 1999 by Dave VanOsDavid has been writing science fiction and horror for a number of years, he has only recently begun to explore the genres of fantasy and historical fiction. His works have been publsihed in the romance, science fiction, horror and action sections of The Little Read Writers Hood, Aphelion Webzine, Titan, The Writers Outlet and Dementia.
E-mail: DAVEVANOS@prodigy.net
URL: http://members.aol.com/thedrifted/main.html
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