Powerschool13




Chapter 13: THE THIRD SWORD




Muragecht's armies fought bitterly with the enemy from the west. They absolutely had to storm the opposing walls and finally they would win the final battle of the evening. The people counted on their emissaries and the magical swords specially made for this move. If they didn't manage to wrest the holy blade from Muragecht, subdue him and bring peace to the whole land. The fight raged in the desert in front of the Hades rock, where the dark lord was to stay with one sword at a time and from there command and control his subjects from the shadow realm. Dark smoke rose from the ruins of Hadesfelsenburg on Muragecht and drew a dark ring of smoke and shadow around his new fortress. This rock had once been a seething volcano, but now only the shadowy creatures and the other dark figures were digging for the hard rock from which they made their arrowheads and swords.





VERSE 2: ESCAPE


As soon as Warior disappeared into the woods, Isribus stumbled down the little path to the hut. He too was sweaty, his hair disheveled and his clothes smeared with blood. He had probably also dealt with beings of darkness and the one with the second sword had been unconscious for less than he had thought. Isribus was alerted to the low hum caused by the insects buzzing across the lake, because something was wrong. The light was still burning in the building in front of him and he looked around briefly. The surrounding huts stood empty and the wind gently shook the branches, the shadows they cast, as the moon shone lightly on them, seemed like the most evil creatures. Further ahead, behind the huts, there was rustling in the bushes, otherwise he heard and saw nothing inconspicuous, except that now and then an owl-like shadow hovered over the trees.To the right of him it was first up a steep slope and then flat into a dense deciduous forest, through which subdued sunlight fell and behind which a small mountain appeared again. But if you looked down the steep edge and through the forest strip, you discovered fields, corners and meadows. No sooner had he allowed himself a glimpse of the beauty of nature than a light mist appeared between the oaks and beeches and was now illuminated by the moon instead of the ground. A ghostly shiver brushed Isribus' s body and inevitably he winced, because it seemed as if another creature had appeared with the fog and had materialized as two red glowing lenses. To his left it went up an earthy slope to a sandy area with only dry bushes and through a gap in a tree, he saw large, conical, pointed rocks. Isribus was the only one of the three brothers from the Order of the White Dragons who had a strong beard and, like all of his three brothers, had light rather than dark hair.He had a noticeably curved nose and wore gray leather armor with red velvet, under it a chain mail and gold decorations on the gloves. In his belt was a morning star, a spiked iron ball on a chain, which was connected to a piece of wood as a handle. Around his shoulders he had hung a blue velvet coat, which was embroidered with mother-of-pearl and looked like the night sky with a thousand stars. Finally he entered the brightly lit dining room, almost trembling from the exertion, and his first glance was on Gisildur, who stood half crouched behind the counter with his sword drawn and looked around anxiously in all directions.


"How do you get in here? Is he gone?" he huffed and Isribus felt his tension.


"Who?" the newcomer tried and soothed him with a short gesture, "There was no one out there!"


"I have to!" the other hissed at him and stepped restlessly from one leg to the other, "I can no longer hold out here ... if the enemy discovers us we are delivered!"His voice grew lighter:" How does the blood get on your clothes? "Isribus wanted to come a little closer by way of explanation, but Gisildur snapped at him imperiously:


"Do not come closer!" with one swift movement he held his weapon to the chest of the Order of the Steel.


"Hey, take it easy!" he tried again and raised his hands defensively, "We'll go out there together now! Sure?" After a brief hesitation, Gisildur nodded and Isribus' s head was raised and lowered. Gisildur wore a simple, black linen shirt with a large neckline, a leather belt with iron studs, and gloves made of the same material. Besides the normal sword with the dark hilt and the strange engraving in his hand, he wore a bow on his back and looked almost exactly like his younger brother Warior. His gray eyes drooped, looked uncertain and after a brief moment they moved to leave the house through the back entrance.Again they saw the dead landlord, listened to cautious footsteps in the grass outside the building, Isribus put his finger to his lips and hissed softly at his disturbed friend. He pressed his sword to the simple wooden door and tried to open it with a little nudge. The wood creaked, but otherwise the door swung open quietly, a cold wind blew against them and Isribus got thirsty. Without further ado, he grabbed a beer mug from one of the shelves, it was the host's mug, and drank greedily from it. After he had swallowed about half, he put it down again, wiped his mouth and shoved the other man to hurry up. Outside they looked around for those who had heard the footsteps and came across Savamir, Kalikor and Badenius behind the corner of the house. The last named was, as always, always on the lookout and fearful, because only the three who had met the black had slowly but surely developed into bundles of nerves and the others could not understand why.

"Where's Warior?" Gisildur immediately gushed out with his question, “Isn't he with you?” They looked at each other, startled.


"No he is not, we thought he was still with you!" Savamir defended himself.


"He's still half a boy," said the one whose brother had disappeared, "He can't cope with that so easily! With ordinary gnomes, yes, but not with shadow creatures!"


"Maybe he's already in the forest ..." suggested Badenius almost questioningly. Something was stirring in the bushes behind them.


"So will it be!" Gisildur encouraged himself again, "I told him that we only had to go east first and then see further!"


"Come over!"


Then they walked quickly into the misty forest and right through the oak trees. Strange noises from the forest reached her ear and her step quickened a little. The path was wide, but still it seemed to them as if the fog was crushing them and they kept closer together.Herbs and clammy grass grew at the roots of the surrounding bushes, the trees were damp from the ever-flowing fog and a putrid smell was in the air, but it did not come from a dead person, but from a swamp, which must be very close by here . Suddenly something cracked between the leaves and everyone turned their frozen gaze to the undergrowth, but it didn't do them the favor to crack one more time, instead the trees began to bend and wriggle with a loud crash. Branches intertwined, the trunks moved closer together and closed like a wall around the five, until a large clearing was created. About six meters around them were small plants such as ferns, shrubs, bushes and sometimes the odd rock in between. This time Gisildur drew the bow, because at this distance from the forest it would be more useful than a weapon that only worked short distances. He drew an arrow from his quiver, clamped it and jumped onto a fallen, half-rotten tree trunk, which was not far from him and was overgrown with thick moss.Ready to fight, he drew the bowstring with the arrow, cocked his head and closed one eye. The others also drew their weapons, Isribus the morning star, Savamir a battle ax, Kalikor a club and Badenius the magic sword. It shines brighter than usual and the moon is reflected on its obsidian black blade. Suddenly everything was quiet, the trees stopped to twist and everything they enjoyed the calm before the storm.


"Will we get out of there again?" Savamir 's voice rang out and Gisildur was about to reply when suddenly a creature of indescribable ugliness shot up from the bushes in front of his feet and wanted to pounce on him, drooling. Reflexively, he let go of the arrow and it bored into the scarred forehead of the black man. This screeched and jumped backwards. He held his forehead convulsively with his thin spider fingers and slowly pulled out the arrow, which had almost come out of the back.Black, slimy blood stuck to him and now also ran down his forehead. He had a skinny, bony neck with leather skin, a round skull with flaming, crazy to grim-looking eyes, protruding ears and closely lined up, almost rotten teeth, and now he had thrown back his coat, which was often patched and probably made of latex Face was visible. However, he still wore it in a high collar and all sorts of veins showed through under his thin skin. He felt the wound and it was gone like a miracle. Now they wouldn’t be able to hit him with arrows anymore, thought Gisildur and was surprised why his opponent hadn’t died of this injury as most of his opponents had done after such a fight. From under his cloak the strange fellow brought out a broad, curved Saracen sword with a blackened edge and, with the other hand, another. He held these blades crossed like a skull and looked at whoever shot the arrow at him.In the meantime he had drawn his sword again and his opponent symbolized: I only want to fight with you!


Isribus lunged at him, while he let the morning star circling over his head with a wild scream that pulled his arm through and thundered the spiked ball on the shadow creature. The latter, however, only raised his arm and caught the ball out of the air, whirling his own blade into the air, catching it with his mouth and digging his other weapon, which was already