17.
Decurio Galahad had his own haunting on
his mind. He recalled the event with clarity; the ride, the slashes and the
killing. Most of all, the fear inside him. He had not fought witches or druids
but he had his share of fighting the henchmen. He called them that; the minions
of Hell. He recalled the one time when he was with the old King, his squad was
assigned to solve their issue. The issue was the villagers were uncleared of
the enemy.
“The village looked deserted, Leader
Abin.” It was dusk then; they have arrived late after a long ride of three
days. It was unusual for a foreigner to lead them but Abin was a formidable
fighter and had won the respect of the squad. The squad was a mix of citizens
too; Nubians, Sicilians and even Gauls to the Celtics. Abin was from Persia.
“Galahad, you will take fore. Take five
riders with you. Armed yourselves. Be prepared….”
“Yes, father.” The twelve warriors replied
in unison. Then they all laughed. Abin was a veteran of many wars and at his
late age, he was still fighting as if he was twenty years ago.
Galahad rode ahead with the five others.
They have unslung their bow and notched the arrows. He felt the sword at his
left side of the belt; the curved scimitar that Abin had gifted him. They
reached the wooden gates with the walls that was built to protect the village.
The gates were open but there were no sentries. They rode in and saw the
village was deserted. The huts were there; the butcher, the grocer, baker and
the stables but the living creatures were not there.
“Galahad, there are signs….” The warrior
motioned to the piles of bones scattered at the village. “They were fed…on.”
“Syaitan!” The other Persian in the squad
who rode in with Galahad cursed out. Galahad dismounted and then approached the
nearby pile of bones. It was not arranged neatly but piled on with no defined
design. How ever there was no sight of any skulls. He leaned down to examine
the bones.
“Watch out!” The warning came too late
when Galahad felt the impact on his back. He fell forward and into the pile of
bones. He rolled to the side on his battle horned instinct but lost his hold on
the bow. He rolled on and then crouched up. He saw the other warriors were
engaging the enemy.
It was a human or was one with the usual
limbs but the figure held four upper limbs and six lower limbs with the frame
of the body that reached twice the height of Man. The body frame was covered
with the skulls that were implanted on it. It was essentially encased with the
skulls like a layer of protection but the skulls were all alive and biting. It
was no longer a human but a demon by the looks.
“Drop the bow. Use your swords.” Galahad
told the warriors when he saw the arrows were ineffective. He drew out the
scimitar and attacked the skull protected demon. He hit at the left knee to
cripple the demon while the others went at it on the chest or upper limbs. He
saw then Abin had charged in with the mount clashing into the demon and
toppling it. The Persian jumped off the horse and swung his scimitar on the
face of the demon. He slashed at it cutting at the face and then with one thrust,
he had the scimitar into the left eye. He then cut deep down and severed the
left side of the jaw before he swung it once more at the neck. There he made
the cut to sever the head.
“It’s still alive.” Abin called out. The
headless demon had retreated and all the skulls on the demons all laughed. “It
had cheated death.”
“And it will die.” Galahad rushed from
behind had charged at the demon. “If the head is not the head, then the heart
may be the head.”
Galahad had slashed the scimitar across
the lower chest. His cut was deep and the demon screamed. He slashed gain and
again until the demon fell to its knees. He then stepped back and Abin
approached the demon. He raised his scimitar and cut the chest into parts.
“Now it dies.” Abin voiced out. Galahad
had watched the demon twitched and then lay still. It was over.
Or was it.
Galahad dreams of the demons with his head
on the chest. He was to see himself as one. He was killing the legionnaires
then.
Galahad was the syaitan.
“Wake, brother.” Galahad woke up. He must
had slept son after he drank. He looked up to his brother, Gaheris who had woken
him.
“We have words of an attack by the
barbarians. The Equities are ready. They await your command.”
Galahad nodded. He must act his role as
the leader.
Warrior.
And not a drunk with nightmares.
The Decurio stepped to his mount and
stopped. He turned back and saw the familiar face. It was Abin and he was no
older than when they parted.
“Abin Nur, when did you arrive? I could
had….”
“There is not much time, Galahad. I have
come to warn you of the syaitan. It’s here now.” With that Abin handed over to
Galahad the scimitar. “Use this. It can kill them.”
“Abin, where…what is this?” Galahad held
out his arms to hold his friend.
“I will be here. I am with the
mercenaries… the ones that served your Centurion. I will fight with you.” Abin
replied. “But I am old now. I may not fight as good.”
“I…I will see you later. I have my duty to
perform now.” Galahad smiled. “We will drink and eat later. And thank you for
the gift.”
Words of farewell were spoken and parties
parted.
Eyes watched both of them but not all were
alive.
18.
Lady Igraine turned her sight from the
pool of water in the shallow bowl placed on the altar that she had constructed
with old oak tree’s trunk. She had placed scented candles and personal items on
it. She reached for the bound skin cover hard spine book on the left of the
table. She turned the cover which was covered with the human skin and the pages
inside were old parchments handled down the generations. It was not a family
heirloom but it had changed hands for several centuries but it served one
purpose; witches need for spells.
“When would you stop?” It was her lover,
Lord Pendragon. “We have been …”
“Leave me, Utter. I am not in the mood to
discuss this.” Igraine dismissed the other. “Through it the moments when we
need to like the consummation of our desire. I have my needs and once done, its
placed aside. For now, I have a need to see my enemies. The ones who sought me
at the village where I had remained hidden until then. The Augustus who had me
placed on their leash like a dog, And….”
“Enough of your vengeance, my love. We
have to ….” Lord Pendragon pleaded with his love. He reached for her to hold
her while he kisses at her left shoulder. She smelled well from the morning
bath and her dress was one of his favourites. The green dress with the off
shoulder cut and the bodice that were laced with the silky laces to hold them
bosom up.
“Leave me, Utter. I have much to work on.”
Igraine ignored the other and continue with her peruse of the parchments. She
soon found her spell and worked on it. It was a spell to call upon the floating
spirits in the area. The wall had been the battlefield for years. Lord
Pendragon disgusted with the scene had taken leave of her from the chamber.
“Show me your …” Lady Igraine was taken
aback by the spirit that appeared before her. It was Gorlois, her previous
Lord. He was still in his mail suit and held his sword on the right hand
levelled at her. He did not look well, with the mail suit cut in places and
there were the open wounds on his body but no blood was seen.
“My love Igraine. I am delighted to see
you once more.” Lord Gorlois lowered the sword. “It’s nice of you to call upon
my soul.”
“I…. I did not. I was ….” Lady Igraine
replied with her hands trembling. “I…”
“And you will never know what you will
find then.” The image of Gorlois faded and was replaced by another.
“Who are you?” Lady Igraine uttered in
shock. “Where is ….”
“I am Lady Morgause. You may had known me
as Morgan Le Fay of Derby.” The image was that of a lady who was young and
beautiful in the silken white gown with her braided long hair reaching her
lower spine and her feet were bare. “I am known by many names with whom I may
had met.”
“Lady Morgan…. Le Fay….” Lady Igraine
recalled the name. She was there at the functions held by Lord Gorlois. She was
an exquisite beauty and mingled well with the other nobles. “You ….”
“Was your past and seen your betrayal of
your Lord. Such an adulterous move. What was it that Lord Pendragon held for
you that Gorlois was not. Age? It does not matter much in the realm of
consummation. The nobles do that for the strength of alliance. You were
bargained off by your father to the elderly Lord was one example. Yet, you
found yourself …”
“Seduced! I was seduced by him. He came
disguise….like…”
“Yet you know and allowed it to prevail.
Such a noble act. What did you do next? Had him killed in battle next so that
you could move on. Truly the beauty of a lady can be bewitching.” Lady Morgause
snapped back. “Look at me. Am I not a beauty? This body have enticed some men
to my wishes. If only they have seen my real look, they will flee for the far
away land.”
Lady Morgause reached for her forehead and
then peeled the skin there pulling it down to her chest and over her arms to
her legs. What she revealed then was another figure; plain and yet beautiful in
her looks. She had one a white short gown that reached just above her knees.
She looked like a demure young lady standing there,
“This is me, Lady Igraine. I am not that
…. appealing but to some I was. So, tell me, Lady Igraine, which are you? The
noble lady that hold her Lord’s arm or the scheming vengeful seductress? When
you invoke the spell to call on the floating spirits, you may be treading onto
the unknown area. Are you ready for it?”
“I … I am.” Lady Igraine acknowledged it.
“I am a …”
“A witch nevertheless. As we are the same,
we can be friends. After all, I can help you.” Lady Morgause looked at the
other. “Your desires may be the same as mine.”
With that, Lady Morgause approached the
other lady. She reached with her right
arm to the laces on the bodice on Lady Igraine’s dress. She pulled at the laces
and watched it untangled to reveal the cleavage that had enticed many men. Lady
Igraine had reached up with her own hands to hold the other’s arm. Her hold was
firm and yet it was not pushing the right hand away. She pulled the hand towards
her exposed bosom to caress her in full.
“I…” Lady Morgause hushed the other in the
lips with her left hand. The index finger of the lady caressed the lips of Lady
Igraine.
“Speak no more. Let it be felt the real
desire of yours.” Lady Morgause then leaned over and kissed the lady on the
lips. “You want me, and so do I.”
The flooring before the altar was their
bed for the amorous feels of each other. The scent of the candles accentuated
their needs while the floating spirits invoked there; some stayed and some left
but with each soul an empty feeling that they had wished they did when they
were able to.
No comments:
Post a Comment