Mask

Chapter 3

The fog hung in the air like a death sentence. The stink of blood and sulfur was woven into the black cloud surrounding the party. Overhead the sun sets into twilight and the sky darkens as it moves on its path towards night. He rode at the side of the prince along with three other Obsidian Knights; one at each side so as to protect the prince from attack from any direction. The prince set a harsh pace, but the great black chargers of the Knights kept pace with his copper destrier. The thirty following warriors lagged behind by several yards. The prince was in no danger,however, he was guarded by the holy knights of theTemple.

Hemdax kept one hand on his sword and one eye on his prince, as he pushed his steed to its limit.The fog clouded his vision steadily until he realized they were riding blind. He called to the prince for a halt. The Prince Of Dusk was reluctant but relented to wisdom. The party halted and he dismounted in order to kindle a fire.He pulled out a mat from the prince's travelsack laid it on the dusty surface. The darkness of the fog rendered the plush red cotton of the mat a dark crimson. The color of blood.

The Prince Of Dusk sat on the mat and crossed his legs. The burnished gold of the princes gilded breastplate glinted in the firelight. The prince's silver hair fell to his shoulders and his eyes stare into the firelight;slender face hard as stone.

The Obsidian Knights surround the prince; using an old defensive formation. "The men will be lost in this fog," the prince stated solemnly,"This is a bad omen".Hemdax watches the prince intently; attempting to gauge his emotions. A skill all Obsidian Knights were taught. The ability to read a man could be the difference between life and death. He found the prince to be unreadable.

The fog weighed on his shoulders like a heavy mantle. The dark air seemed to smother him; cold grating at his throat. The fog inspired something deeply primal in him; fear. The most chilling aspect was the quiet. The silence enveloped Hemdax like death's embrace. The crackling of the fire and the jingle of mail did nothing to ward away the silence; rather the silence swallowed such sounds, devoured them such that nothing was left behind. He only wished the dreaded quiet would end,that it would go and take away the chill he felt in his bones. He brooded in front of the fire for several minutes. Then the silence broke. And he wished it never had.

Screams filled the air. Screams of madmen. Cries of men butchered in a slaughterhouse. The fear was conducted through the mist and onto the very souls of the party. They were afraid, but each of them,to a man, kept a stoic,impassive expression in place. But a close observer could note the tight grip each of the Knights kept on his sword. It would also be noted that the fingers of their free hands trembled and their eyes darted trying unavailingly to pierce the veil of fog.

The Prince of Dusk rose steadily to his feet.The prince stood tall at six and a half feet. But in Hemdax's eyes he was taller ;in his eyes the prince was as tall as a light house tower, illuminating the path to safety. "Tiame vo dera",the prince's voice was hard as a bar of steel. Be brave,the prince had said. An old battle ritual.

The Knights spoke in unison,"Qo deran infer lumi", Our bravery burns bright.

A moment stretched on, tension building up to form an unending crescendo. And then a Knight laughed;barely making a dent in the fortress of apprehension. His hysteria tinged laugh lasted a minute more until the prince fixed him with a stare. He cleared his throat awkwardly ," I'm as brave as they come and thats all well and good but am I the only one still really fucking hoping this is a dre-".

His words caught in his throat as the silhouettes of four horsemen emerged from the mist like spectres from the darkest abyss of hell.

Steel rang as each man drew his blade, none able to tear their eyes from the riders that brought nothing but bloody cataclysm.