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ARKARUM

  THE HAMMER AND THE BLADE

  By Craig Barnes

  Copyright 2012 Craig Barnes

  CHAPTER ONE

  CAPTIVITY

  The girl huddled in fear, trembling though the day was bright and warm. The horizon to the east was covered in a dark cloud of ash, as always, but above the girl the sky was blue, dotted with scudding clouds of silky white. The cause of her terror circled again, letting out a wail of pure malice.

  Amelia clapped her hands to her ears in a futile attempt to block out the horrifying sound. As the shriek died slowly away, she hazarded a glance at the sky. It was there, still, circling high above her. Its bat-like wings were stretched against the sky, tattered and scarred and showing sickly brown against the brightness of the firmament.

  Quickly, she ducked back into her hiding space in the hollow beneath a fallen oak. She shut her eyes so tightly they began to throb, though she dare not open them again. She could hear the great hollow sweep of the demon's wings above, seeming to throb with the beating of her own heart. The only other sound was a small whimper that she hadn't known she was emitting. She stifled it with great effort and set her mind to thinking a way out of her terrifying predicament.

  She had been running with her friends that morning, flouting the rules of the village in which they lived. Seraph and Glenda were of an age with her, just into their early teens. It was an awkward phase for all of them; they were still considered girls in the eyes of the older villagers, but they felt the budding maturity of women forming their bodies into the shapes they would become. This strange transitional period had given the three of them, friends for their entire lives, a sense of mischief that refused to be ignored. So they had snuck from the village in the grey before dawn, setting out into the thin underbrush of the sparse forest beyond the village's wooden palisaded walls. With a delight approaching giddiness, the trio had run with abandon, chasing each other and laughing almost hysterically. The freedom of the day, mixed with the guilty pleasure of breaking the rules had them euphoric.

  When they heard the first keening call of the demon overhead, their delight turned instantly to terror. They had stood frozen for several heartbeats, she now recalled, before turning to run with all their might back to the safety of the walls. Long before the village was in sight, however, Amelia had tripped over a fallen branch and watched in horror as Glenda and Seraph dashed onward. For some reason she couldn't now recall, she had been unable to cry out; to call her friends back to help her. She had risen quickly, determined to make it to the village that had been her home since birth, only to find that her left ankle was nothing but a mass of stinging, lancing pain as soon as she put any weight on it. Tears welling in her eyes as hopelesness welled in her breast, she had pulled herself to her current hiding spot, scraping elbows and knees on the rocks and debris of the forest floor.

  Now she curled in on herself, unable and unwilling to open her eyes or pull her hands from her ears.

  Amelia had never seen a demon, and, before today, was beginning to doubt their existence. She had been regaled and frightened with the tales her whole life. Of a terrible war between man and the beasts of Hell. Of great, towering cities of metal and glass being toppled as mankind was slowly defeated by the forces of evil that swarmed the planet like locusts, devouring and destroying everything in their path. She had been warned of the dangers that faced them, the few surviving pockets of people scattered across the land. But, lacking proof and growing up in a small community that showed few signs of fear or trepidation, she had begun to almost believe that the tales were simply that: stories to frighten children into doing their elders' bidding.

  The thought almost made her laugh now, huddling in dirty, bloody misery with scrapes all along her body that wept blood slowly into her rough gown of brown wool. How had she been so blind? So sure and confident in her own foolish assumptions? The stark truth had, in the last few moments, been shown to her with a clarity that chilled her to her soul.

  Slowly, unwillingly, she brought her hands away from her ears and opened her eyes, which were sore from holding them so tightly closed. She was motionless for several moments, straining her ears for the sounds of death stalking above. Nothing. No thrum of wings against warm air, no cries and hate and malice renting the sky.

  For a long time thereafter, Amelia sat still in her damp hinding place, unwilling to believe she had actually escaped death. Finally, steeling herself, she peeked her head out from under the dirt-crusted bole of the tree under which she sat. The sky was clear once again, with no signs of the demon that had cirled there. A giddy, dizzying wave of releif swept through her, causing her to smile like a child.

  Slowly, she pulled herself from her sanctuary, looking ever skyward, peering into the distance for the shape of the winged demon. Finally, she was on her feet, favoring her left ankle and limping slowly back toward her home and safety.

  With a suddenness that knocked the air from her lungs, there was a great shriek, so close that she could feel her bones trembling with the vibration of it. Ignoring her wounded ankle now, she spun to see the creature bearing down on her. It was a massived, winged thing, all black and pus-yellow, with eyes the size of her fist and a slavering mouth that seemed entirely filled with impossibly long fangs.

  Amelia shrieked and spun, launching herself into a flat-out run, not even noticing the cringing pain that lanced upward from her twisted ankle. She had run less than a dozen wild paces, though, before the creature closed on her. Its talons dug into the flesh over her ribs, piercing and tearing, grating against her bones as she was hoisted violently into the air, watching the ground recede beneath her.

  A scream left her mouth, pulled from the depths of her terror-stricken soul and hovering in the air before her uselessly. In response, the demon squeezed her tighter, and she could feel the bones of her rib cage flexing painfully, cutting off her scream and her ability to breathe. As the world darkened, she had one last, fleeting glimpse of her little village among the trees. Then she knew only blackness.

  Amelia woke slowly, swimming upward out of a troubled, nightmare sleep. She didn't open her eyes, willing and wishing her terrible memories into the stuff of dreams. She heard labored breathing and piteous moans and whimpers of hurt and despair, which told her the truth she already knew: her abduction had been no dream.

  Finally, and with great reluctance, she opened her eyes. Her own horror was mirrored on the faces of the seething mass of people that shared the cell with her. They were all naked, and the only commonality they had was that they were all covered in grime and blood--some crusted and brown, some still flowing copiously. There were about thirty of them, Amelia guessed and a diverse group they were; old men and women, wailing terrifying children that couldn't have seen their fourth year of life yet, people with skin as black as coal or pale as snow, and everything in between.

  Seeing their dirty nakedness brought a realization to Amelia that she, too, was naked, adding to the terrified vulnerability she felt. Trying in vain to cover her womanhood and small, budding breasts, she glanced down at the wounds in her sides. The skin covering her ribs was torn and tattered, but had been stitched crudely with some sort of rough twine that she guessed was leather, and the wounds were tender and painful to the touch. Whoever had sealed the flesh together had not taken the time to wipe the blood from her, so she was covered in a crackled, blackish sheet of dried blood.

  Amelia rose unsteadily to her feet, noting that her ankle was still sore where she had twisted it, but she was able to walk on it gingerly. Her questions went unanswered; all she got in response from the huddled masses of frightened people we
re blank stares and monosyllabic grunts. No one could tell her where she was or what was happening, how long she had been there or what was to come.

  Defeated and filled with despair, Amelia sat in the corner of the cell, feeling the heat of the black, perspiring stone wall against her back, and hot, salty tears spilling freely down her cheeks.

  Her days blended seamlessly into her nights from then on. She lost all track of time, the only light coming from guttering, spitting torches mounted in the corridor outside the cell. She and her cellmates were fed twice a day, the only way she could tell one day from the next. The slop that was thrown through the rough bars of the cell was a mixture of some sort of meat and many other things that were indiscernible. She refused to ponder on what was in the food, but it was sustenance, and it kept her alive, if only barely. Whenever the mush came through the bars, there was a mad scramble of all the occupants, scooping up as much of the slop into their bare hands and shoveling it into their mouths. The old and the very young were the first to die, being unable to scavenge enough food. Their bodies were heaped unceremoniously at the back of the cell, and had begun to stink almost immediately.

  It seemed to Amelia that weeks passed in this squalid, animalistic existence, but it could easily have been months. She no longer cared. She had only barely been able to cling tenaciously to her sanity, and each time she glanced at the pathetic pile of corpses stacked against the wall, she knew that her mind would slip into madness as soon as the remaining prisoners started devouring the bodies of the dead, which she knew would happen eventually.

  But her isolation was ended abruptly, shocking her out of her reverie of self-pity and terror. Two creatures opened the door to the cell and stood in sillhouette against the glow from the torches beyond. One was a foot taller than the tallest man she had ever seen. Its scaly flesh was a brownish orange. Its eyes were pools of blood, surrounded by horny nubs of ridgid flesh. Its partner was utterly different. It was small and shrunken, covered in patches of thick-curled grey fur, and its eyes were tiny black pinpoints of sheer malice.

  At the sight of them, the pitiful masses in the cell recoiled from them, hunching back on themselves. The taller of the two gazed around malevolently, eyeing the people with scorn. A tiny flicker of his taloned fingers sent the smaller of the pair scurrying in among the prisoners, snapping its slavering maw at any unfortunate enough to come within its reach. When the demon had reached the rear of the cell, there came a terrible shriek of agony, and the masses of people rushed forward, desperately clambering over each other in their fear of the beast. Just as she was caught up in the rush, Amelia glanced over her shoulder and saw the source of the dreadful scream: a young woman with her arm torn from its socket, the beastly demon gnawing on it and eyeing her writhing form.

  At the bars of the cell, the terrified prisoners halted, not daring to approach the hulking demon standing still as a statue in the doorway. After one last, lingering gaze around, the demon uttered one hissing word: "Follow," before turning and leaving the cell. For moments no one moved, then the hissing snarl of the beast at their backs sent the prisoners into motion behind the striding demon. Amelia glanced back at it once, as she was leaving the cell, catching a glimpse of the thing tearing flesh and stringy muscle from the still-screaming woman on the hard stone floor.

  Amelia followed her fellow prisoners along a narrow stone ledge lined with sputtering torches. The air was hot and close, and the rough stone walls shone dark with some viscuous fluid that covered them. Amelia hazarded a glance over the edge of the railless ledge on which she walked. She saw, stretching below her, a drop into the bowels of the earth, lined all around with ledges like that on which she stood and packed with cells that were identical to the one she had just left. The drop was tremendous, making her head spin, and its bottom, a mere dot in the darkness of the pit, glowed with a sullen red. The keening wail of madness floated up to her ears.

  Amelia was forced ahead by those behind her, and she continued with shuffling feet and downcast eyes. While relieved at being released from her miserable cell, she had no hope in her mind that what awaited her would be any more pleasant.

  The journey continued for what seemed like hours, the ledge eventually widening into a close corridor, the ceiling of which just cleared their escort's head. Finally, the leader of the pathetic little party stopped at a great pair of double doors of black iron.

  The demon pulled the door open and entered without a backward glance, closing the massive doors behind him. The prisoners seethed with uncertainty, grumbling and wailing in their fear and confusion. They were not left for long, however, before the doors opened again and the demon returned. Without a word, he grasped the front-most of the prisoners and hauled him through the open doors, closing them once more. Amelia stood with confounded horror, not knowing what would become of her once she entered the chamber beyond the doors, as she knew she would eventually.

  One by one, the demon returned to the chamber and led another prisoner through the doors. Amelia was the last to be hauled into the chamber. The demon gripped her painfully by the upper arme and dragged her through, forcing her forward until she stood before a raised dias housing a throne of twisted black metal.

  As she gazed at the creature seated on the throne, Amelia's breath was robbed from her; she had never seen or imagined such a terror as this. The demon was massive. His flesh had the look of charred skin and was blacker than the blackest night. Its face held a lipless mouth filled with curving yellow fangs below a fleshless, skeletal nose and eyes of deep blood housing white irises and tiny black pupils. From his bald head sprouted two thick horns that curled back from his ridged skull, coming to sharpened points on either side of his head.

  His terrible eyes gazed down at Amelia. Her knees had begun to tremble from the sheer evil that poured out of those wicked eyes, and her nakedness added to the fear, reminding her that she was truly vulnerable and at this creature's mercy. A growl brought her eyes to the creatures that lay to either side of the throne. They were four-legged creatures of massive, muscled bulk with long flat heads and scales of iridescent red and orange that glowed with the firelight from torches and braziers around the great chamber. The large demon seated upon the throne idly scratched the head of one of the beasts with his long yellow claws.

  The demon's gaze had never left Amelia, and she could taste the copper of fear on her tongue and feel her knees trembling violently, threatening to bring her to her knees.

  Suddenly, the demon began to speak. Its voice was a terrible bass that seemed to grate on the very walls of the chamber. "What is your name, human," he asked her.

  The depth of hate in his voice stole from Amelia what very little strength she had left. She fell to her knees, averting her gaze from the charred demon. For several moments, the only sound in the chamber was Amelia's tortured breathing, her hammering heart. Then, one of the demon's beast barked, loud and menacing.

  She spoke to the stone floor, not daring to raise her eyes. "Amelia," she said, hating the timidity of her own voice.

  She was answered by silence. After long moments, during which Amelia was entirely prepared for her own swift death. Finally, the demon spoke again, his deep tone almost pleasant. "I am Asgoroth. And I am the lord of this place. These are my dungeons, and you, and all your fellow humans, are my slaves." He paused, giving Amelia time to finally raise her head and face him. There was something in the deep pools of his eyes that she could not define; confusion maybe. "Something is different about you, slave," Asgoroth continued finally, scorn dripping heavily from the last word. The demon let out a heaving sigh and said, "But you will be treated no differently. I will break you, as I do all the others, unless I find a better use for you."

  With a flick of his hand, her escort came forth from where he had been standing in a corner and hauled her from Asgoroth's vast chamber.

  Every day thereafter, Amelia was forced to wor
k beside her fellow captives. The labor was intense and horrific, seemingly pointless. When at last they were escorted, exhausted and beaten, back into the communal cell she shared with roughly fifty other prisoners, she slumped into sleep on the hot stone floor among the sweaty mass of the other inmates.

  Day after endless day her torment continued. Amelia was a shell of a woman; nothing was left of the laughing girl who had been abducted what seemed like so long ago. Days bled into months which melted into years. On a great many occasions, Amelia attempted to take her own life, but she was thwarted every time, as if her captors could read her thoughts.

  Then, on a day like any other, after long hours of useless toil in the depths of the dungeons, a demon came to drag her from her cell. Her vacant eyes were downcast and apathetic. She had long since lost any hope that she had ever harbored in her breast. She knew not where she was being led, but she felt that it could be no worse than the torment she suffered through on a daily basis.

  She was shocked to realize, however, when she finally looked up and realized she was in Asgoroth's throne room, the beast himself staring down at her.

  Without hesitation, he spoke: "The time has come to break you, slave. I have had counsel with my brethren, and they agree that, though you may be different in some trifling respect, you are no different in how we should dispose of you. Your soul will suffer endless torture, just as do all the others'."

  A flash of rage sparked in Amelia's eyes, and she could barely hear the words that formed and spilled from her mouth. "Break me?" she almost shouted her incredulity. "How can you possibly break what is already broken? I am nothing; a shell of a person left with nothing but despair, praying for death."

  In a flash, Asgoroth was on his feet, towering over her with malice and hatred flashing from his bulbous red eyes. "You think you have been broken?" he roared, the sound echoing off the walls. The pair of beasts by his side had risen as well and growled menacingly as Asgoroth shouted. "You have no idea the pain I can give you. You have not tasted agony. You have not seen horror. Now, you will know what it means to be broken by a Demon Lord of Hell!"

  Hours later, Amelia was dumped back into her cell. She was bleeding from the scores of wounds from Asgoroth's whips and talons. Her skin was bruised and she could feel broken bones grating against each other unnaturally. Her vagina and anus were torn from where the demon had ravaged her repeatedly, insatiably.

  Huddled and weeping and knowing new depths of despair and agony, Amelia fell into a deep and troubled sleep.