Flights of Fantasy - The Pub Fantasy Smackdowns

Hall of Souls - Part 2

There was no colour. Rolling hills of grey stretched into the distance where black mountains reached like talons into a grey sky. Jace dismounted, his boots crunching into sharp gravel and sand. Outcrops of glassy rock rose from the ground and the only sound was Castor’s breathing until a voice punctured the silence from behind them.

"That was quite an arrival laddie, not often we see dragons in the Lands of Night and Shadow." The golden Sword of Day joined its silvery companion as Jace whirled about.

"Nice swords boy. Last time I saw those was in the hands of a man called Skilgannon. Are you as good as he was?"

Jace froze as Caster lumbered around to look at the stranger. A powerful looking man with a hard face, white beard and pale blue eyes sat nearby. His back rested against a larger rock, and a battle axe leant nearby. The man had made no move towards the weapon and his eyes had not left him for a second.

"You knew Skilgannon?"

"Aye, but it's a long story best told over a meal and a glass of ale. Unfortunately lad there are no Inns here, and no food." The man waved a hand at the expanse of grey around them.

"I'm no lad," Jace said coldly. "I am Prince Jace of the House Kalbrennan, and you shall address me either by my name or my title."

"Well laddie, I don't hold much stock by titles, so it'll have to be Jace then." The older man stood abruptly and hefted his axe. "Now, are you going to put the pig stickers away or are you and I going have an argument?" Cold eyes regarded him for a few moments and then the man softened his tone. "I'd suggest the former Jace. There are few people here in the Lands of Night and Shadow, and if your flying lizard has to depart you'll need someone who knows where you need to go."

"What do you mean 'has to depart'?"

"He's a dragon: he'll need food, but there is none here. We're human and so the Lands will treat us as one of the dead. He's a magical creature. If he stays here he'll die and you'll be stranded. I'm assuming you wish to get back again?"

"Who the hell are you old man? How do you know so much?"

"I've been here before laddie, several times actually so I've picked up some knowledge along the way." The man held out a hand in greeting. "My name is Druss."

~

Jace watched the man walking in front of him. The old axeman seemed to already know the reasons for Jace's arrival and once Castor had slipped back to their own realm, Druss had simply said "we go that way" and they'd started walking towards a low range of hills.

Druss suited the stark landscape: white and grey hair, a black leather jerkin with silver steel pauldrons, black leather gauntlets with steel plates covering the knuckles and forearms, black leather boots and a black pot helmet with a silver axe motif on the brow. Despite his apparent age, he was iron fit, stocky, but moved carefully and always in balance.

"Do you want to ask any questions laddie, or are you happy just watching my arse?" The old man chuckled and stopped to face him. "Yes, I'm Druss, 'The Legend'. Yes, I knew Skilgannon and yes, he was a friend. Yes, I'm dead. No, you're not: not yet anyway. Yes, I know what you seek and yes, I'm going to help you. Are we done?" The axeman grinned and planted the axe head into the sand at his feet, resting his gnarled hands on its haft as the upswept wings of the butterfly shaped blades dug in to the lifeless soil.

"Where are we going old man?"

"Old man now is it? Ah, the arrogance of youth." Druss grinned at him again and held out a hand to forestall an angry outburst from the Prince. "Laddie, I've spent most of my life around kings, warriors and princes. If you're going to get upset by one man's quirks then you've got a lot to learn. We're going to the Hall of Souls. I've been there once before and what you seek will be there. But, any soul in this place will act like a beacon and as we get closer all manner of dark things inhabiting this place will be converging on it like a moth to a flame. We have little time. Now, shall we?"