The walls were white.
Like many he'd seen in his memories, though carved with care and not plain like a dry board. Along them hung three pointed stars, black within orbs hovering. Beneath the orbs were pillars, white as the walls, standing for over a hundred paces leading to a black velvet carpet.
Beyond the carpet was a wide hall, hundreds of paces round. Pillars, dark silver, some with three pointed star torches round them, stood towards the ceiling.
Their hearts raced, the carpet beneath them leading towards a high steel wall.
Along the wall were swords, dug into the mound, hilts pointed out. Some were familiar, others were from lands across the sea, and a handful were so disfigured it was hard to tell. At the foot of the wall was a carved in seat, dozens of steps leading to it.
A hooded woman sat the high throne, white hair sifting from her cloak.
Beside her was Nathan, leashed by a chain, naked and thin to the bone with nothing but his cross.
Al nocked an arrow, posting herself against a pillar.
On her feet, the woman tugged the chain, and Nathan groaned. Her voice was gentle, almost nurturing, yet sharp like an iron cast of thunder.
"What good do ye' have here?" Qurrath asked, revealing a lone gold beaming eye. "Is thoust so eager to join the dead?"
"Don't listen to her!" Nathan spat! "Kill this demon sc-."
Shadows strangled him, locking him in place.
Quarrath released him, making her way down. At either side of him rose the shade, then its vampyre counterpart.
From within her robes Quarrath's hands beamed. Smoke leaked from her fingertips, and when she opened and closed her fists, sparks flew.
She stopped, a few steps from his reach.
"I offer you one last chance," she said, comforting his beating heart. "Lest you will be left to rot for good."
Nathan squirmed, inching beneath wiry shadows.
Light flickered from the lad's cross.
Flail overhead, he lunged forward. Open palm, Quarrath slapped between his flails spikes, leaving scorched mark. She flew underneath his chain as he retracted. Dany met her head on, stabbing for her chest. She leaped, jumping from pillar to pillar.
Once over Al, she dove.
Al dashed away, fiery waves grazing her as Quarrath slammed into the ground. She loosed arrows towards the throne, and the shade hissed. Light shined from Nathan again, and the vampyre released him, its shade disappearing.
On his feet, the lad picked up his sword from beside the throne.
He span his flail, keeping Quarrath on her toes. Pillars crumbled, his flail breaking ironite stone like wood. She darted between white shining spiked lashes. Dany stood firm, but couldn't keep up with her. None of them could, Quarrath closed in on them before he could ready his shield.
An open palm strike sent him back, Dany against him. He stayed on his feet, yet Quarrath shoved his shield away. Another open palm erupted his breastplate, like the firebombs within his dreams.
'INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING!' Rang in his head.
He sailed through a pillar, breaking his ribs.
Al screamed at Dany, telling her to escape with Nathan. She loosed arrows at Quarrath drawing enough time for Dany to snatch the lad up. Though he tried kicking himself free, he was too exhausted, drained to his bones.
On his feet, he emptied his flask.
With fuming eyes, he stretched himself, bones cracking along his belly. His lungs felt to be taking a sharp hammer with every breath, though his muscles swelled. He roared, swinging mad. Quarrath was in arm's reach of Al, and a hundred kilograms of spiked steel slammed her into a pillar.
He yanked back his flail, then lashed again. It bounced off metal, ringing so loud he covered one of his ears.
Bloody against the pillar, Quarrath's hands ignited.
A sword came from the fire, large like the blade he took from the White Rider. In both hands she clenched the blades white hilt, its dark edges glint like the night sky. Her robes flew off, revealing pristine white armor with black trims. Hair flowing like fire, Quarrath growled, opening her jaws which held dagger long fangs.
When she spoke the palace shook, voice like a storm above.
"Now you face the power of a god!"
Rocks landed atop his head.
Each step he took made him stumble, the air was thickening, shadows held him in place. Arrows whizzed by him, striking the shade reaching for his throat. The vampyre cursed, appearing from the shadows beside Quarrath.
The First Sword dashed his way, a white flash he almost couldn't see.
Into the air, the vampyre dove towards Al, who loosed bright tipped arrows.
Fire engulfing the throne room, he slammed his shield into the ground. White sparks backed Quarrath off, though she thrusted once. Ironite dented his shield, though he stood firm. He stomped forward, driving hard as he could. She stabbed again, knocking him off balance.
Arrows landed behind her throat, and she roared. A swing of her sword grazed his armor, and his belly burned. Behind his shield again, she backed him into a wall. Arrows landed beside him, against his shield. Two landed in Quarrath's back, and she hissed turning away.
The First Sword lunged for Al, who was bloody in the face. Beside her was the vampyre's twitching corpse, arrows lodged in it's throat.
He swung.
Quarrath ducked, slicing open Al's stomach. While retracting, she cut again, spilling Al's guts onto soot ridden stone.
Again, his flail missed, Quarrath leaping out the way. In circles he whirled it above, tearing apart the throne room, bringing down entire pillars. Stone bombarded round him, but he scattered it with a mad swing.
Like a flying star, Quarrath raced on all sides of him.
All he needed was one hit. Not even a good hit.
She span off falling debris, a chunk of rock the size of a boulder. One swing of her sword erupted fire towards the ceiling.
Deafened, he flew back, listening to the alarms of firebombs.
Incoming. Incoming.
Within his armor he was mangled.
Both arms crushed, blood gushing from his eye sockets, gargling on his own blood, and one of his ribs protruded beneath his breastplate.
Hot ironite skewered him through his chest, a pair of calm golden eyes above him.
"Rest now," Quarrath whispered. "Be at peace, ye' of a cursed life."
Something uttered within his throat.
Yet his tongue was stiff.
It all came back to him. Fragments he'd yet to know, so fast he couldn't get a full glimpse.
Then it was all there. White walls, bottles of rum, devices used to communicate across the world, his friends cheering on the Steelers, the wiry trumpets and weeping people in black, then at last the dragons bombarding soldiers in another world.
All of it, came to an end.
His tale ended.
Was it worth it?
Perhaps he'd find out in another life.
*End of Volume One*