Here is a sword and sorcery one, something a little different from my usual offerings...
In the ale house where we left her, Zen was talking to herself:
“Ah, to hell with this; what am I doing here, holding this stupid sword amongst all these morons with their dead eyed ghoulish stares? Look at me here all alone with no pretensions to greatness except someone else’s who is not here but lost to me somewhere.”
An echo was heard hauntingly down below with the tapping of the damned and the ghouls danced to it.
“And these damn ghouls, they think I’m frightened of their subliminal foulness ethereally abounding in the wave essence making this room dark hiding behind their masks dripping venom. I would break their eyes, their image. I would set a fire there to burn them away.
I am open. I am large. I will not entertain their needs so small. I will not dance to their song of fear.”
“Ooow,” said a ghoul sitting with three others at a round table of oak, dripping with ale and saliva.
“What are you slobbering at smoke breath?” said Zen to the ghoul who had mist coming from its mouth. The other two sniggered with toothless grins.
“Ooow,” it went again.
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay
“Keep that up and I’ll take your head off,” threatened Zen raising the sword for emphasis and giving the ghoul a withering stare with her fiery eyes.
“Are you going to stand there all day threatening my customers with that sword?” asked the barman.
Zen turned to face her questioner. In her eyes shone a terribleness not to be reasoned with.
Here was a woman as big as a man with muscles bursting through silver studded amulets. Black hair gleamed glossy down her back. Her clothes were tight to her supple body and revealed every curve and roundness. She stood with her feet apart leaning on the sword and appeared ready and able to use it at a moment’s notice and the barman felt that moment was upon him so he drew back and muttered to himself:
“I don’t mind ghouls but crazy women are another matter.”
He went back to wiping the glass and became very absorbed in his wiping.
Behind her, a ghoul rattled its chain. Swift as lightning Zen spun about bringing the sword up and round in a terrible arc of whistling death. It cut through the ghoul’s neck without slowing and came to rest pointing back over her shoulder. The ghoul’s head slowly rolled off its neck and fell to the floor where it hit with a dull thump. The ghoul bent down and picked it up and put it under its arm and shuffled sullenly out of the room dragging its chain.
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
“Anyone else got anything to say,” growled Zen looking around at the by now quiet room. All were silent with their mouths open pouring forth a stream of nervous mist that quickly filled the room with a cloying clinginess.
Zen was blinded by it and lashed out with her whistling sword. Back and fore it flew as she backed out towards the door. From somewhere came an oww, then another and another until all the ghouls were oowwing. Zen turned and flew with her arms out before her reaching for the door. Swiftly she ran as behind her the ghouls gave chase. Around her the cloying mist pressed in on her and enveloped her with its soundless blind terror. Something snagged her foot and down she went, arms out-flung to break her fall. A stone grazed her forehead and momentarily she was dazed as the ghouls closed in around her, blocking all escape. Shaking her head to clear the pain and nausea she saw before her an inscription cut in stone, a headstone, still dripping blood: RIP Zen.
“No way.” she screamed brandishing the sword back and fore. “What are you waiting for, come and get me. Don’t be afraid of a little woman.”
The ghouls held back just out of reach of her sword afraid of the madwoman.
“Fight you chicken livered wasters. Come on and fight me.”
Through the mist a hideous gargoyle ghoul approached holding a club almost as big as itself. The gargoyle ghoul was horrible and ugly and slavering down its dark deformed jowls.
“Fool. Now feel the might of ghoul slayer,” screamed Zen chopping the apparition in two. It fell to the ground writhing and squirming.
“Anyone else?” she said to the rest of the encircling foul mouthed forms.
Moans and slaverings only returned from them.
Image by Christine Sponchia from Pixabay
Up above, an orb of diffused light penetrated the mist as Zen gave a shrill whistle, then another. From far off came a whinny, then the sound of pounding hooves thundering closer and closer. Suddenly from out of the mist Zen’s black horse, Rainbow, galloped up to her. Seven thousand pounds of prancing muscle and strength. Zen leaped upon the back of Rainbow and sped off through the mist. She held tight to its mane and pressed her firm legs to its side. Its lungs filled and emptied with great bursts of air that fed the body that rippled with power. The ghouls were left far behind.
Coming out of the mist, Zen found herself on an undulating plain of grass so open and vast she could see as far as the horizon with nothing else in sight. The horse’s magnificent stride took her through in the wind of its passage and everything fell before her headlong flight as she was set on fire with the speed and exhilaration of the ride.
As darkness approached with the falling sky the great horse slowed its headlong dash to a canter, then a brisk trot. The horse was hardly tired from its exertions and could have gone on but Zen decided to make camp for the night. On alighting from Rainbow she gave the mare praise for her valiant effort then bade her good night. Rainbow grazed as an orange sun lit the plains and Zen lay down and slept.
Images from pixabay
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