Swords of Steel Omnibus by Howie K Bentley et al

Author:Howie K Bentley et al.
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: DMR Books
Published: 2019-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

The Chamber Of Juleptsu

By Jaron Evil

Gorrim spun the five-foot shaft of the rune-covered battle-axe, sending a whorl of blood and ichor spiralling from Krella’s enchanted double blades. Grimly, he surveyed what could be seen of the cavern’s shadowed depths in the flickering red-orange of the torches lining the stone walls at irregular intervals. This wasn’t the main chamber, he knew; large as it was, he was well aware that the ancient priests and acolytes of the god Juleptsu would never have trusted ultimate guardianship to a few score misshapen subhumans and their pets.

Absently, he rested the head of the battle-axe on the chest of the corpse he was using as a platform to improve his vantage point, and shook the blood from his hands. Some of it was his—he was bleeding slowly from numerous small wounds he’d taken to his arms and shoulders in the short but furious battle he’d had with cavern’s defenders. His dwarven chainmail was rent in spots, as even the kythrandir links could not withstand the primordial fury and iron jaws of creatures Time should have erased long since. He’d also acquired a small slash to the left side of his jaw, and it stung abominably–likely a bit of venom in the wound, he realized. Most of the blood was that of his foes, he noted with savage satisfaction.

The body on which he stood was that of one of the Fenriksyr dogs he’d decapitated in the defenders’ initial onslaught. Like most of his kind, he was actually shorter than the measure of Krella’s haft. The dead (and nicely foreshortened) Fenriksyr was, in fact, merely the topmost of an impressive pile of corpses and body parts, subhuman and canine, but the dwarf did not hesitate to use the remains to improve his perspective and plan the next phase of his search. The dog’s body was huge, even with the fearsome head removed: the creature was a sort of Hel-hound, taller at the shoulder than Gorrim himself when standing on all fours, and nearly as broad across the chest as the dwarf, whose musculature and strength were legendary already among his own kind.

Not that he cared for such things particularly, but the name Gorrim Guar-Mortik was already known, was whispered in places where one did not speak the names of others aloud.

Though there had been no other living soul to witness what had taken place in the cavern, it was grim and bloody testimony to Gorrim’s great strength and martial skills, as augmented by the ancient fey magic imbuing the blades of Krella, the Headsplitter, that fully twenty of Fenriksyr lay dead in their own blood, with twice that number of their powerful but stunted subhuman masters, their curving hook-tipped blades beside them.

He considered his options. The small bit of canine venom in the wound on his jaw was irksome, but not enough to slow his reactions or cause permanent damage, and his dwarven mail, which hung nearly to his knees and covered him from throat to wrist, nullified the effects of any venom that might have otherwise accompanied his other wounds.

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