::Fiction Genre Awards Honorable Mention::
::First Place Winnner in the Prose Awards Fiction Awards 2017 Loco-Lingular Award::
Many years have passed since the Deathless arose. Immortal, invincible they came, they subjected the people and their...
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The inside of the tower was not as wretched as Galath thought it would be. It was actually quite nice, with stained glass windows and beautiful carvings on the stone pillars and the balcony above. Bookshelves lined the walls of the lower levels. Majestic arches topped the carved pillars and elegantly framed the stained-glass windows above him. On the opposite wall, a grand spiral staircase led upward into the unknown. Galath cautiously ascended the steps.
He emerged onto the top of the tower hundreds of meters above the hard ground. The perimeter of the tower roof had small arches, purely for display, since they did not hold anything up. Noticing a ten-meter gaping hole in the center of the floor, he approached it slowly and peered in. The interior of the hole was modest with two stone slabs and a small stone chair. Odd place for a throne he mused.
Quietly Ausar emerged from behind one of the arches and approached Galath from behind. Galath, being millions of years old, had acquired acute instincts and sharp reflexes. He suddenly jumped to the side spinning 180 degrees to see Ausar in the middle of a kick. Galath drew his sword, and Ausar readied his blade as well.
Ausar stabbed at Galath who easily dodged the blow, and swiped at Ausar's neck. Ausar hastily brought up his blade, barely blocking Galath's blow with the flat of his sword. Galath seized the opportunity and started a barrage of swings, stabs and strikes using any of his limbs that were free. Ausar desperately parried and dodged Galath's attack.
Ausar knew Galath was the better swordsman; he was millions of years old, while Ausar was approaching only five thousand. Realizing what must be done Ausar dodged another of Galath's blows and dove behind Galath, rolling to disperse the impact. Freeing himself from Galath's onslaught, Ausar backed towards the edge of the tower. Galath moved between Ausar and the gaping hole in the center of the tower.
Ausar slowly started forcing Galath back towards the pit. Strike after strike rained down onto Galath, who, with little effort, deflected and dodged each swing. Galath was losing ground, even though he was easily defending against Ausar's attacks. A meter away from the pit, Galath decided to take a page out of Ausar's book. He launched himself over Ausar's horizontal swing. Ausar, knowing it was one of Galath's few options, was prepared for this. Using the momentum from his horizontal strike, he swung himself two hundred and seventy degrees around, lifted his knee. Ausar's knee caught Galath square between his eyes. Galath flopped to the ground unconscious.
Ausar stooped and retrieved Galath's limp form, dropping Galath into the pit. A round stone slab, with intricate, ancient carvings and symbols began to slide out from the top of the pit's wall. It covered Galath and sealed him in his eternal prison.
"Rot in your Hell, Galath," Ausar murmured to himself.
"Sir, that is the thirteenth scout Jori has sent out in three months," the girl stated, her voice echoing inside the immense, empty room.
"I know. Do you think me a fool?" Ausar sneered. "I can count past twelve, you blabbering wench."
The servant girl's lip quivered uncontrollably. "Get out of my sight, you yapping, good-for-nothing imbecile," Ausar roared. The young girl, tears streaming down her face, turned and ran.
As the servant girl ran out, another woman stepped out of a nearby doorway. Her shining black hair mimicked the color of Ausar's polished armor, framing her attractive face. "What are you yelling about?"
"Nothing, my love. Go back to bed," Ausar said soothingly as the woman approached, her cream-colored satin gown fluttering behind her quick pace.
"It's noon," she stated flatly.
"Then," Ausar began, "the waters must be sparkling like your sapphire eyes my dear."
"Shut up, Shakespeare."
"Who?"
"Never mind," she muttered dismissively.
Ausar stood from his throne and descended the dais to the beautiful woman standing before him. She stared at his black helmet.
"I wish you would not wear that thing so often," she said quietly.
"It keeps the servants in line. Fear is a good motivator."
Finally giving in to her multitude of requests, he took off the angular helmet to reveal his defined face. He brushed his lips against hers and quickly drew away.
"Now Mara," he said taking her hands in his, "I have servants to terrorize. I really must get back to work."
"Master Jori, the warlord has sent back, well . . . sent parts back of your latest scout."
"Was the scout anywhere near the locations the other twelve went missing?" Jori inquired.
"No," stated Garrel, "like the rest, he was in a completely new location."
Jori leaned heavily on the large stone slab that was covered by a map of the land. Small red flags marked the locations of the other members of the Legions of Shadows who had disappeared. Each was spread out and they were in no particular pattern. Jori angrily slammed his fist into the smooth stone and instantly wished he hadn't.
"So, then what are we to do
about this warlord? We must stop him somehow. The rumors are . . . unsettling. He is a phantom in the night and the people need reassurance."
Garrel paused for a few moments then said, "One scout won't do much. If he has as many followers and warriors as you say he has, we are going to need a small army."
Jori nodded. Maybe one hundred of his finest men would be a large enough group to withstand the tyrant, but still small enough to be mobile and fast. "Give one hundred of my best men a one week notice to be summoned."
"Why wait so long?"
"I want the men to be fully prepared. No sense rushing them if they come in a hurry and forget major equipment. I also want to appeal to the Worker for his aid, or at least some of his technology that could be of use."
Ausar drummed his fingers on the arm of his black throne. Deep in thought, he almost missed the servant calling to him from the foot of the dais.
"What?" he asked more politely than intended.
The servant girl's face lit up for a moment, but then just as quickly turned to shock at his unexpectedly-not-insulting tone.
"The champions are here milord."
Ausar made a motion for the combatants to come into the room and the girl wisely hurried out.
Standing to his full stature, Ausar descended the steps as the champions entered the throne room. Scooping up the sword that was lying at the bottom of the dais, he stopped a few meters from them.
Throwing the sword, he said, "Fight to the death. Make it quick." Turning on his heel, he strode out of the room. He heard the first cry and the thick doors closed behind him.
