Asgoleth the Warrior - By Bill Kirkwood Page 0,2
some piece of unseen filth and he staggered forward, off balance. His opponent gave a shriek of triumph and slashed viciously at the young barbarian. A swift sideways leap saved Asgoleth’s life but was not enough to prevent Alarr’s blade from shaving a flap of skin from his shoulder.
Snarling wordlessly Asgoleth recovered his balance and brought his own sword around in a back handed slash. The point of the blade sliced through robe and skin opening a long deep slit in his foeman’s flesh. Alarr staggered back with a curse on his lips but he recovered quickly and leapt once more to attack the Calthian.
Asgoleth frowned; his foe was no ordinary kidnapper. Such a rogue would have fled ere now but this man was different. His black robe and shaven head marked him as some kind of priest though of what cult Asgoleth had no idea.
A snarl escaped him as he thought of the reasons a black clad priest might have for stealing a girl. There were cults that practiced the unholy rituals of human sacrifice to the dark Gods of destruction; the evil and powerful deities who had visited carnage and horror upon the shining cities of the Earth five thousand years before.
It was said that in that long ago age, men could fly through the air and cross land and sea in marvelous machines that could complete in mere hours, journeys that now would take many days and nights of peril filled travel. Aye so great had become the knowledge of men that they even dared to reach for the very stars themselves.
It was their invasion of the heavenly realms that angered the gods that dwelled there and they sent the fury of the Great Destruction to punish man for his arrogance. After it was over and the world had been laid waste, a few survivors emerged from their hiding places and began the long climb back to civilisation. Now, five thousand years later, the cities of man once more raised thrusting towers towards the skies.
Asgoleth sneered at his enemy. Men such as he were cowards and weaklings who lived their lives in fear of their gods. Asgoleth’s people prayed only to one god. His name was Ragnar and he lived in the ground and in the sky and in the wind and in the sea. He was a strong god and went where he pleased, as did the warriors of Calthia. Ragnar demanded only that his people lived their lives with courage and met their deaths bravely. He demanded no sacrifices, human or otherwise and Asgoleth felt a deep contempt for this creature before him. He and his kind believed in human sacrifice, as long as long as it was some poor helpless wretch bound upon the altar and not themselves. If this was the fate these men intended for the girl then it was more important than ever that he succeed in his rescue attempt.
Alarr launched a savage swipe at him but he beat aside the others blade and as he did so he lashed out with an iron hard fist. The blow landed squarely in his enemy’s face and the priest gave a strangled cry as splinters of bone were smashed backwards into his brain. His body went rigid for a moment then he slumped to the ground at the barbarian’s feet and lay still.
Asgoleth knew that he was dead and stepped over the broken body without a downward glance. Somewhere in the darkness ahead were the other priest and his helpless captive. Asgoleth vowed that she would not long remain so. He had rid the world of one demon worshipper this night and he intended to send the other one after him into the arms of whatever dark deity they served. Fired with fury and the lust for battle the young barbarian sped off into the gloom in silent, deadly, pursuit.
His long legs carried him swiftly through the night and soon he saw ahead of him the shadowy forms of the other priest and the girl. She was still struggling but she could not break free of his strong grasp. Asgoleth increased his pace. Ahead lay the river where, no doubt, a boat lay moored awaiting the arrival of the priests and their captive. He had to stop Morius from reaching it. Asgoleth abandoned his stealthy approach in favour of more speed and the man ahead heard his running footsteps and turned.
‘You took your time killing that barbarian pig, Alarr. Now get over here