Nightmare Crusade

Chapter 19 - Joined in Darkness

Norman comes to his senses, only to find himself surrounded by total darkness. Reflexively, the first thing he does is try to move, but his joints ache horribly, hindering any motion. He squints his eyes, trying to make out anything in the thick blackness, and soon takes notice of a hunched over, breathing shape sitting before him in the darkest part of the room upon a throne. A shining object in its hand is what looks to be a goblet.

A deep voice emanates from the figure, "Finally," it wheezes in a harsh tone, "You're awake. You have no idea how difficult it was to finally have you here with me."

It takes a noisy sip from the goblet, sets it on a table beside the throne, and steps into the better-lit portion of the room by the solitary window, allowing Norman a better look. It takes him a moment before he gasps in disbelief, suddenly recognizing the figure.

Despite how horribly rotted the creature's flesh is, his presence is unmistakable; it is Soltail. His body is riddled with rigor mortis, and his decayed face is almost unrecognizable, with the left half of his jaw replaced with a crude, iron prosthetic, but his vehement eyes give his identity. Norman thinks at first he must dreaming again, but the oppressive pain in his joints is much too real.

A metallic squeaking sound comes from Soltail's right leg, which is made almost entirely of iron, only showing a few hints of flesh beneath the casing. Razorblade talons sprout from the base of the leg. His wings are gone, now replaced with thin, wing-shaped sheets of metal bolted together which scrape against each other irksomely.

"You do recognize me, old friend," Soltail gargles. He snickers and slides his gangrene tongue over his rotten jaw, which drips with maggots and blood.

"Look at my worm-infested, cadaverous shell of a body. What you see, this is your doing, Norman. After that night, the one of which you murdered me, I awoke within my coffin, screaming out for anyone to help me. I had to claw my way out of my own grave. It took me so long... But I managed, only at the cost of my fingertips." The undead dragon stretches his boney arms out, pointing his gnarled, partially-mechanical claws at Norman. He lowers them and continues, "I shambled around for a bit, shortly before a group of frightened men in robes approached me, and they instantly knew I was an unforeseen product of their master's ritual practice in the graveyard. Then, their master, Fenter Darkmire, pushed past his underlings with an oh-so excited look on his face. He claimed I was his first successful resurrection, and he didn't even notice. So, he took me here to keep an eye on me, performing various 'experiments' on my body with the promise that he would restore it completely."

Soltail coughs and scratches his metallic leg, sending tiny, squirming maggots scattering to the floor. Norman gags at the ghastly scene, holding back bile.

"As you can tell," Soltail continues, "That was a heap of horbon shit. I was left alone in this tower to rot... alive. That is, until a man, if you can even call it that, with no face appeared to me in a vision and offered me a deal. The deal, Norman, was to use you to bring the Revenantial Blade to me so I can use it to free him from some... 'pocket dimension.' In exchange for his freedom, I get to have you."

Soltail smiles ominously at Norman's visible confusion.

"Norman," he continues, "You were nothing more than a little courier, given the task of delivering the sword from that dummy, Quorthon, to me. Of course, the plan wasn't executed without some hiccups... For instance, the man had instructed Boogly through the hemisphere to have you dip the sword in the cauldron of devastation, which you failed at, thanks to her!"

Soltail violently yanks a chain forward, dragging muzzled Selvira into the light. Norman growls and tries to get up, but his bones feel too weak and he collapses. The two captives meet eyes for the first time in what feels like forever.