Read Online The Wanderer's Tale by David Bilsborough - Free Book Online Page B

in our company what were going mad with fear, and t’would not be long ’fore their minds departed forever, such was the horror o’ the Beast that raged without. And when finally the steeple came crashing down in ruination, Thegne Toktoson took up his Greatsword and went out to meet it. He slid back the bars, wrench’d open the door, and in that second all the fury o’ the Black Place burst into the temple. Thrice round the sanctuary this pack o’ fiends tore, as we curl’d in an agony o’ fear upon the flagstones.
    ‘And then, suddenly as it’d enter’d, it was gone . . . just not there. The tempestuous manifestation died, the trees ceased their tumult, and we all stagger’d to our feet. What’d befallen, we never found out, but t’was Thegne Toktoson what saved the day. And there he was, upon the floor by the portal, his head ripped clean off by the Hell-Hound.
    ‘T’was Drauglir, I tell you. O’ that there’s no doubt in my mind.’
    Those at the head table relaxed a little; the words of the Peladanes of Wrache, a place too far to be considered in the pay of the Wintus household, did more to quieten the assembly than the words of any priest. They were a hardy and honest lot, less given to the excesses of their more southerly peers, and were held in a kind of grudging respect by other Peladanes.
    One soldier, the leader of a band of archers from Rhelma-Find, then spoke up: ‘Holy man here zsay Drauglir will rize, and man of Wrache say he already riz. Either way, far as we concerned you all talking manure: Arturuz Bloodnoze zstuck hiz zsword into Rawgr’z heart, then dezstroyed corpse with fire! That the way it alwayz done with Hell-thingz. Zso that an end to it; how can Drauglir pozsibly rize again?’
    There was a general buzz of agreement. Like beez.
    But Finwald was unflustered: ‘To start with, Arturus never so much as laid hands on the Rawgr. It’s a well-documented fact that it was by the hands of one of Drauglir’s own servants that the demon’s heart was pierced.’
    This much at least was not too shocking a revelation to those listening, as there had always been doubt as to who had actually thrust the blade in.
    ‘And are you really such an authority on the subject of rawgr-slaying that you can assure us all, and the good men of Wrache here, that burning the body would be enough to destroy one? Can you truly gainsay the word of those who have spent their lives studying this legend? Are we to risk the entire world on just the theories of an archer from . . . wherever it is you come from? I venture to suggest that you are suffering from the same delusional over-confidence that afflicted the Peladanes five hundred years ago. You see, their great error was in mistaking the correct way of slaying the Rawgr . . .’
    Immediately there was an uproar. All the Peladanes in the hall surged forward and bayed their outrage, and it did not look as if they could be placated this time.
    ‘What was that you were saying about delusional over-confidence?’ Nibulus hissed at the priest, as the Peladanes began a war-chant denouncing mage-priests, Lightbearers and all things civilian.
    All the Peladanes, that is, except the Warlord and his son, who had already endured this same argument with Finwald earlier. After a few ugly minutes, their intervention calmed the crowd down enough to hear Finwald further.
    ‘I know how galling it must be for you to stand around listening to some follower of Cuna tell you what is and what isn’t right. Believe me, I’m not enjoying this, but it is of the utmost importance that we sort out this problem right here and now. If not, we will still be arguing when the skies are red with fire creeping down from the North, and while the leprous serpents of Hell come slithering into our children’s cots!’
    He paused, struggling to keep the shrillness from his voice. He had never been the preaching type. ‘There is, however, a correct way to slay a rawgr-lord—’
    ‘And that iz