Chapter 8: Fallen King
Dolin moved quickly through the ruined hall, the Traitorous Edge in his hand.
By his side, Garrick and the other knight followed closely.
Sounds of battle rang out ahead.
The deeper they pushed toward the castle, the louder they got.
Steel rang out somewhere ahead, followed by a scream.
Dolin and the others rushed forward.
They burst into a wide hall where several defenders were desperately fighting a group of enthralled.
The men moved stiffly, striking again and again with relentless precision.
Eight surviving defenders were holding them back with a makeshift barricade.
One of them saw Garrick.
"Captain!"
Relief flashed across his face.
Dolin and the others did not waste their time.
Dolin charged into the fray.
The clash was violent and chaotic at the same time.
An enthralled guard lunged at Dolin, his blade threatening.
Dolin stepped aside and slashed, cutting off the man's arm. The enthralled didn't even flinch, swinging again.
Dolin ducked beneath the strike, driving Traitorous Edge straight through his throat.
The corpse dropped instantly.
Another attacker rushed him from the left.
Dolin pivoted and split the man's head with a crude downward strike.
Behind him, Garrick fought like a storm.
His blade carved through two enemies at once.
"Hold the line!" he shouted.
The surviving defenders rallied with the new arrivals.
Within moments the last enthralled collapsed to the floor.
The survivors stood their panting, tending to the wounded with serious expressions.
One of them wiped blood from his mouth.
"There are more of them," he rasped.
"They keep coming from the throne hall."
Dolin glanced down the corridor ahead.
That must be the path to the throne hall.
"What do we do now?" a knight asked. "The throne hall is the only way out, yet it is brimming with the enthralled."
"How many exactly?" Garrick asked.
The defender shook his head.
"Too many."
Before anyone could move, footsteps echoed from the adjacent corridor.
A tall armored figure stepped through the doorway. A crown rested upon his head, though crooked.
The King.
One of the defenders lowered his sword slightly.
"Your Majesty?"
The king didn't answer. Rather, he raised his blade and attacked. They could now see him through the smoke, and he was far from human.
One of the knights barely managed to parry before being forced backward.
"Something's wrong with him!" someone shouted.
Their 'king' had spikes of bone protruding his skin and his flesh was decayed in a greyish black hue. In other words, he was corrupted.
Dolin let out a chuckle.
I think there's more to it than just something wrong.
Dolin moved quickly, encircling the hulking husk of a man.
The king swung again, forcing Garrick back several steps.
Dolin lunged forward, slashing the man's side.
The blade cut deep, yet the man did not slow.
Two defenders attacked this time, their blade's striking the king's armor.
Garrick seized the opening, and with a pained expression, drove the sword toward the king's chest.
The king allowed the blade to pierce through him and struck Garrick across the shoulder.
Garrick staggered, but this gave Dolin an opportunity to attack.
The Traitorous Edge flashed, piercing right into the skull of the King.
Unlike these knights, I have no qualms killing a king.
The king's body collapsed to the floor, the crown rolling away.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Mountain King.]
Dolin exhaled slowly.
One of the defenders looked down at the corpse.
"...Gods."
Garrick wiped his blade clean, a pained expression on his face.
"We can mourn later. We need to reach safety in the throne hall. From there we can access the secret passage to take us out of this carnage."
Then, Dolin noticed something. Thin strands stretched across the upper beams of the hall. He had not seen them before, only just noticing them now.
They were practically imperceivable, and oddly enough, he felt a sort of resonance with them.
Dolin frowned, pointing to the threads.
"Were those there before?"
Garrick looked towards the direction he was pointing in.
"What do you mean? I don't see anything."
Dolin didn't answer. Instead, he stared upward.
The threads. They were trembling. A faint vibration spread across the web like a ripple through water.
Something moved from above. At first, Dolin thought it was a shadow shifting in the smoke, but then it unfolded.
A pale shape detached itself from the rafters and drifted down, leaving the whole room in silence.
Dolin's eyes widened slightly.
It resembled a moth. A massive one.
Its wings were long and pale. Its thin body hung beneath the wings. It was entirely black, as if made from darkness itself. From its abdomen stretched dozens of delicate strands of black silk.
All of the nearly imperceivable threads he had noticed before; they connected to the creature above.
Dolin could not speak. He was frozen in terror from the being descending in front of him.
None of them noticed, but the imperceivable threads Dolin had seen before began to drift down, wrapping around each of them.
Dolin suddenly felt it. A huge mental pressure. Soft at first, but then raging like a storm.
Why struggle?
Why fight?
You are powerless?
The threads continued to tremble.