The Horror Begins
A Countdown to Final Ragnarok short story
By Dan Wright
By Dan Wright
The light became progressively darker the deeper the travellers wandered. The meagre illumination their lantern provided meant they could only see so far. Neither of them had any idea how far the cave went – it could have stretched infinitely for all they knew.
“How much longer?” Alix groaned, her legs aching from the endless walking.
“Beats me,” Dylan snapped back, just as exhausted. “Caves generally don’t have signs to warn you.”
Alix pinched her nose tightly. “Peeeyooo! It stinks in here!”
“That’s the damp, what did you expect?” Dylan groaned.
“I don’t think it’s just damp,” Alix replied. “Smells like… something else.”
Dylan sniffed a couple of times just to humour her – but he also sensed the whiff that had offended Alix’s nose. Whilst the damp was prevalent, this additional smell made his heart leap. It was like dried copper.
“I’m starting to get the feeling this isn’t going to be just a wild fox chase after all,” Alix whispered.
She reached behind to make sure her bow was still attached to her back and her quiver was fully stocked. Dylan did likewise with his warhammer, making sure it was securely fastened to his leather coat. Neither he nor Alix had known what to expect when they took this job. But when the village elder told them about screams coming from the cave, and that those sent to investigate mysteriously disappeared – he knew the job would be more than average. The way the elder had looked at him, with eyes that carried fear and uncertainty made him think it wasn’t just brigands this time. The villagers feared it could be a cult that was sacrificing people for their Dark Lord – or a hungry ghul that was feeding off those who entered their lair. Some of them even said it was the spirit of Venomac devouring the souls of those that wandered into the cave too far. That wouldn’t have been too huge a stretch, giving that Venomac Swamp was only a short distance from here.
That was one of the advantages (or disadvantages, depending on which way you looked at it) of being mercenaries – you never knew what your next job would bring.
Dylan stopped briefly, looking ahead. He lowered his lantern just to be sure. Yes. There was a light ahead of them. Only faint, but still noticeable. The whiff of dried blood was stronger now – to the point of being overpowering.
“Keep on your guard,” Dylan warned. Both he and Alix moved gingerly, hugging the wall, but making sure their hands were not too far from their weapons. The light grew stronger as they moved in. The cave turned down a new path and the light bathed both Alix and Dylan, revealing the monstrous secrets to them both.
Rows upon rows of candles lined the end of the cave, illuminating the walls. Dylan and Alix saw crimson symbols painted on them; but Dylan and Alix couldn’t make out what they were supposed to represent. At first, they thought the shapes were dragons, but more twisted and distorted than the stories had told them. Maybe these weren’t dragons at all – but neither sibling could be sure.
In the centre of the cave’s end, a figure knelt, slumped, in a circle similar to the pictures on the walls. She looked quite young, no older than a teenager, Dylan guessed. Her skin was a gentle ebony and her hair, black – but her eyes were little more than white. Whilst knelt, her hands drooped to the floor limply. She was like a puppet held by a puppeteer, who if he were to let go the strings, she would collapse. The circle glowed a deep red, the light seeming to shift up and down around the girl in the middle like wisps of fire.
“What the hell?” Dylan gasped.
“Well now, what have we here?”
Dylan and Alix turned round, hands grasping their weapons. Behind them stood a figure, mantled in shadow. His white eyes shone and his frayed cape lumbered behind. His armour was like nothing that Dylan or Alix had ever seen. He was like an insect in human form – several tubes sticking from his mouth into his body. He stood with his arms folded, as still as death itself.
“Funny, I wasn’t expecting guests today.”
Dylan and Alix held their breath, their fingers shakily trying to keep a grip on their respective weapons. The Man in Shadow pointed a metallic finger to the badge on Dylan’s waistcoat. It was of two golden letters on a black background. T and J – but they had been crossed out. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s the sign of the Troja,” the Man in Shadow cackled. “What are a pair of criminals doing down here?”
Dylan put a hand across the badge. “Don’t compare us to those monsters!”
“Oh, you’re those types?” the Man in Shadow murmured. “Let me guess – you broke your ties with the Troja and you’re mercenaries now? Or maybe you’re both searching redemption for past actions?”
“What we’re seeking isn’t redemption,” Dylan snapped back.
“Then what are you seeking?” the Man in Shadow asked. “Not that I really care. Whatever you’re after you won’t find it here. In fact, you won’t find anything here at all.”
“What is going on?” Alix demanded, lifting up her bow, her two fingers clasping an arrow.
“Would it be too cliched to say ‘If I told you then I’d have to kill you?’” the Man in Shadow asked. “Though to be fair, I do like that phrase.”
“I’d like to see you try!” Dylan cried, swinging his warhammer through the air. It struck the ground and seemed to make the cave shake.
“Oh it always brings a smile to my face when you warrior types try to act brave,” the Man in Shadow sniggered. “But seeing as you asked so nicely, I’ll humour you. We’re preparing for Final Ragnarok.”
“What the hell is Final Ragnarok?” Dylan shouted.
“Flames,” the Man in Shadow replied.
“What are you talking about?” Alix snapped.
“Flames. Darkness. Silence. End.”
Dylan and Alix looked at each other. Both of them had an idea what this monster was talking about – and it didn’t take a genius to work out what Final Ragnarok meant. The smell of blood entered his nose again. “The people from the village,” Dylan started, “we heard that those who entered the cave never came out.”
The Man in Shadow sniggered like a naughty schoolboy. “Where do you think we got the blood for these symbols?”
Dylan felt his teeth grit and his grip on his warhammer strengthen. He lifted his weapon above his head. “I don’t know who you are – or what the hell you’re planning – but this ends now!”
The Man in Shadow laughed, ending with a snort. “Sorry, friend – but you’re no knight in shining armour and I’m not a monster that you can just slay.”
Quick as a flash, Alix notched a bow and pulled it back. “We’ve dealt with bigger creeps than you,” she cried. She launched the arrow towards the Man in Shadow, aiming right for his head. Alix didn’t even have to spend much time with her aim – her accuracy was such that she could hit a fly in the eye; when it was moving.
The frays on the Man in Shadow’s cape moved of their own will, one fray catching the arrow before it even touched his head. “I can guarantee you, my dear, you’ve never dealt with anyone like me before.”
Alix’s stared open mouthed as the Man in Shadow turned the arrow around. Next thing she saw was her own arrow heading towards her head.
“Alix!”
The Man in Shadow didn’t even move from his spot. He smiled inside his helmet as Dylan wept for the corpse that was once his sister. “Ah, emotion. The one disease no one wishes to be cured of.”
“Bastard!”
With eyes aflame with tears, Dylan launched himself at the Man in Shadow, the warhammer aimed towards his face. Another fray of cape shot up and grabbed the hammer, holding it in place, much to Dylan’s horror.
“You got courage, kid, I'll give you that,” the Man in Shadow said. “I’ll never know what it was you were fighting for. Maybe you didn’t even know. In the end nothing matters. Not even tears.”
He placed a finger to the bottom of his mask. “You could still be useful to me. When the time is right of course.”
Another fray of his cape, this one as sharp as a sword, found itself in Dylan’s neck.
“But for now, get some rest. I’m sure you’ve earned it.”
The Man in Shadow turned to the figure in the middle of the circle. He took metallic steps towards her, eyeing her with awe behind tired eyes.
“You, my little flame,” he spoke as if he were a parent dripping with pride, “you are my greatest achievement. Everything I have worked for, every sacrifice I have made – and am about to make – you are my justification.”
He stroked her hair as if petting a dog. “You are the lynchpin of my victory. And you will make me so proud, I know it.”
He looked up as though something had caught his eye. And yet there was nothing in the cave save for him and his living weapon. “It’s almost time. I can feel it. Final Ragnarok is coming – and you will be the flame that ignites it.”
“How much longer?” Alix groaned, her legs aching from the endless walking.
“Beats me,” Dylan snapped back, just as exhausted. “Caves generally don’t have signs to warn you.”
Alix pinched her nose tightly. “Peeeyooo! It stinks in here!”
“That’s the damp, what did you expect?” Dylan groaned.
“I don’t think it’s just damp,” Alix replied. “Smells like… something else.”
Dylan sniffed a couple of times just to humour her – but he also sensed the whiff that had offended Alix’s nose. Whilst the damp was prevalent, this additional smell made his heart leap. It was like dried copper.
“I’m starting to get the feeling this isn’t going to be just a wild fox chase after all,” Alix whispered.
She reached behind to make sure her bow was still attached to her back and her quiver was fully stocked. Dylan did likewise with his warhammer, making sure it was securely fastened to his leather coat. Neither he nor Alix had known what to expect when they took this job. But when the village elder told them about screams coming from the cave, and that those sent to investigate mysteriously disappeared – he knew the job would be more than average. The way the elder had looked at him, with eyes that carried fear and uncertainty made him think it wasn’t just brigands this time. The villagers feared it could be a cult that was sacrificing people for their Dark Lord – or a hungry ghul that was feeding off those who entered their lair. Some of them even said it was the spirit of Venomac devouring the souls of those that wandered into the cave too far. That wouldn’t have been too huge a stretch, giving that Venomac Swamp was only a short distance from here.
That was one of the advantages (or disadvantages, depending on which way you looked at it) of being mercenaries – you never knew what your next job would bring.
Dylan stopped briefly, looking ahead. He lowered his lantern just to be sure. Yes. There was a light ahead of them. Only faint, but still noticeable. The whiff of dried blood was stronger now – to the point of being overpowering.
“Keep on your guard,” Dylan warned. Both he and Alix moved gingerly, hugging the wall, but making sure their hands were not too far from their weapons. The light grew stronger as they moved in. The cave turned down a new path and the light bathed both Alix and Dylan, revealing the monstrous secrets to them both.
Rows upon rows of candles lined the end of the cave, illuminating the walls. Dylan and Alix saw crimson symbols painted on them; but Dylan and Alix couldn’t make out what they were supposed to represent. At first, they thought the shapes were dragons, but more twisted and distorted than the stories had told them. Maybe these weren’t dragons at all – but neither sibling could be sure.
In the centre of the cave’s end, a figure knelt, slumped, in a circle similar to the pictures on the walls. She looked quite young, no older than a teenager, Dylan guessed. Her skin was a gentle ebony and her hair, black – but her eyes were little more than white. Whilst knelt, her hands drooped to the floor limply. She was like a puppet held by a puppeteer, who if he were to let go the strings, she would collapse. The circle glowed a deep red, the light seeming to shift up and down around the girl in the middle like wisps of fire.
“What the hell?” Dylan gasped.
“Well now, what have we here?”
Dylan and Alix turned round, hands grasping their weapons. Behind them stood a figure, mantled in shadow. His white eyes shone and his frayed cape lumbered behind. His armour was like nothing that Dylan or Alix had ever seen. He was like an insect in human form – several tubes sticking from his mouth into his body. He stood with his arms folded, as still as death itself.
“Funny, I wasn’t expecting guests today.”
Dylan and Alix held their breath, their fingers shakily trying to keep a grip on their respective weapons. The Man in Shadow pointed a metallic finger to the badge on Dylan’s waistcoat. It was of two golden letters on a black background. T and J – but they had been crossed out. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s the sign of the Troja,” the Man in Shadow cackled. “What are a pair of criminals doing down here?”
Dylan put a hand across the badge. “Don’t compare us to those monsters!”
“Oh, you’re those types?” the Man in Shadow murmured. “Let me guess – you broke your ties with the Troja and you’re mercenaries now? Or maybe you’re both searching redemption for past actions?”
“What we’re seeking isn’t redemption,” Dylan snapped back.
“Then what are you seeking?” the Man in Shadow asked. “Not that I really care. Whatever you’re after you won’t find it here. In fact, you won’t find anything here at all.”
“What is going on?” Alix demanded, lifting up her bow, her two fingers clasping an arrow.
“Would it be too cliched to say ‘If I told you then I’d have to kill you?’” the Man in Shadow asked. “Though to be fair, I do like that phrase.”
“I’d like to see you try!” Dylan cried, swinging his warhammer through the air. It struck the ground and seemed to make the cave shake.
“Oh it always brings a smile to my face when you warrior types try to act brave,” the Man in Shadow sniggered. “But seeing as you asked so nicely, I’ll humour you. We’re preparing for Final Ragnarok.”
“What the hell is Final Ragnarok?” Dylan shouted.
“Flames,” the Man in Shadow replied.
“What are you talking about?” Alix snapped.
“Flames. Darkness. Silence. End.”
Dylan and Alix looked at each other. Both of them had an idea what this monster was talking about – and it didn’t take a genius to work out what Final Ragnarok meant. The smell of blood entered his nose again. “The people from the village,” Dylan started, “we heard that those who entered the cave never came out.”
The Man in Shadow sniggered like a naughty schoolboy. “Where do you think we got the blood for these symbols?”
Dylan felt his teeth grit and his grip on his warhammer strengthen. He lifted his weapon above his head. “I don’t know who you are – or what the hell you’re planning – but this ends now!”
The Man in Shadow laughed, ending with a snort. “Sorry, friend – but you’re no knight in shining armour and I’m not a monster that you can just slay.”
Quick as a flash, Alix notched a bow and pulled it back. “We’ve dealt with bigger creeps than you,” she cried. She launched the arrow towards the Man in Shadow, aiming right for his head. Alix didn’t even have to spend much time with her aim – her accuracy was such that she could hit a fly in the eye; when it was moving.
The frays on the Man in Shadow’s cape moved of their own will, one fray catching the arrow before it even touched his head. “I can guarantee you, my dear, you’ve never dealt with anyone like me before.”
Alix’s stared open mouthed as the Man in Shadow turned the arrow around. Next thing she saw was her own arrow heading towards her head.
“Alix!”
The Man in Shadow didn’t even move from his spot. He smiled inside his helmet as Dylan wept for the corpse that was once his sister. “Ah, emotion. The one disease no one wishes to be cured of.”
“Bastard!”
With eyes aflame with tears, Dylan launched himself at the Man in Shadow, the warhammer aimed towards his face. Another fray of cape shot up and grabbed the hammer, holding it in place, much to Dylan’s horror.
“You got courage, kid, I'll give you that,” the Man in Shadow said. “I’ll never know what it was you were fighting for. Maybe you didn’t even know. In the end nothing matters. Not even tears.”
He placed a finger to the bottom of his mask. “You could still be useful to me. When the time is right of course.”
Another fray of his cape, this one as sharp as a sword, found itself in Dylan’s neck.
“But for now, get some rest. I’m sure you’ve earned it.”
The Man in Shadow turned to the figure in the middle of the circle. He took metallic steps towards her, eyeing her with awe behind tired eyes.
“You, my little flame,” he spoke as if he were a parent dripping with pride, “you are my greatest achievement. Everything I have worked for, every sacrifice I have made – and am about to make – you are my justification.”
He stroked her hair as if petting a dog. “You are the lynchpin of my victory. And you will make me so proud, I know it.”
He looked up as though something had caught his eye. And yet there was nothing in the cave save for him and his living weapon. “It’s almost time. I can feel it. Final Ragnarok is coming – and you will be the flame that ignites it.”