The sweet fragrance of fresh blood and overturned earth filled Noah’s nose and made his heart jump. Embraced and elevated by Nerodris’ magic, his body had reached peak condition. His muscles eagerly twitched, rejoicing at the glorious carnage around him. The sweat dripping down his back couldn’t cool off the fire his skin exuded. Only cold blood could do that. Delicious, cold blood! He wanted to drink it, bathe in it, engulf the whole world in it.

Over Nerodris’ screeches, his ears picked up the soothing music of clashing weapons and desperate screams. More! He wanted to hear the melody of death even more. Alas, he had dispatched the shamans way too quickly. He should have cut them up slowly, savoring their cries. Indulging in the magic seeping out of their wounds. His blade craved their flesh. His heart yearned for their wails.

No matter. There was still one more foe before him.

Through the gaps in his visor, Noah peered at his prey. Kush-turgan Nekor stood motionless amidst the circle of bodies. His slumped shoulders and craned neck gave him the look of a waiting vulture but the fierce glint in his star-filled eyes was more akin to a predator than a corpse-eater. A vicious smile stretched his thin lips as he lifted his hand and pointed at Noah.

A split second. A single word.

“Rise!”

Feeling the earth shift under his feet, Noah jumped to the side. At the same time, the halberd in his hand swung horizontally, its hammer-shaped end aimed at whatever unholy creature was preparing to make an appearance. The strike, amplified by Nerodris, was enough to break a bull’s skull in a single hit. However, the halberd was deflected with a loud clang and shook Noah’s arm to the bone.

Covered in dirt and tufts of grass, two tall figures stepped towards him. On their armor, the seal of the Two Gods was carved by the hand of a long-dead master blacksmith. Despite the grime, not a speck of rust was visible on the plates, only small dents indicating the passage of time and the merciless power of nature. In their hands, the two fiends carried poleaxes equal to their own height, their dirty blades still seeming intact and sharp despite the centuries past.

Facing the two dead knights, Noah felt a shiver running down Nerodris in an almost… joyous manner. And how could it be otherwise? What stood before him were two holy artifacts created by the Church in an attempt to copy the masterpiece of Saint Marcus. Although unnamed and long forgotten, they were still Nerodris’ little brothers.

Dark laughter escaped Noah’s lips as his eyes shifted between his new opponents and the shaman.

“So you used me to kill your friends as sacrifices to summon these?” His voice rang hoarse and unnaturally cold from behind his helmet’s visor. “Whose spirits did you stuff inside?”

Nekor just stared at him blankly and pointed at Noah’s chest.

“Kill!”

One fiend stormed directly at Noah, while the other one fell back and began circling him to attack from the side. With cold precision, Noah swung his halberd in a broad circle, taking advantage of his longer weapon. The axe blade of his halberd met with one of his opponents’ armor. In an outburst of sparks, metal scratched against metal. A deep gash appeared on the fiend’s shoulder plate, prompting both undead to retreat at a safer distance.

Clicking his tongue, Noah was barely able to suppress the urge to jump straight back at them. To mince those old bones to the dust they should have become long ago. But it was unwise. Whomever the two vile spirits belonged to, it seemed that they were experienced fighters.

In the short moment of calm, the two resurrected knights began circling Noah like hungry wolves. Without a signal, they lurched forward again - one swinging overhead and targeting Noah’s helmet, the other keeping his aim straight in an attempt to drive the nearly two feet long tip of his poleaxe into Noah’s gut.

Quickly changing his grip on the shaft, Noah deflected the first blow. At the same time, he slightly twisted his upper body. The sharp screech of metal rang over the field. A slight tremor shook Noah, as the second attack grazed his back plate. Without hesitation, he sidestepped and rammed his shoulder into the undead knight that had just missed him, sending him rolling on the ground. This gave him space to maneuver. Using his heel as a pivot, he rotated his body to gain momentum and slammed the blade of his halberd into the head of the first attacker.

The moaning of metal was followed by an inhumane howl. Crushing the resistance of steel and old bone, Noah’s weapon sliced diagonally through the dead knight’s helmet. Black dust erupted in place of blood, the fine particles falling like sizzling dark snow all over Nerodris and melting into its midnight surface. But Noah didn’t have time to observe any of this.

With a mighty kick, he sent the limp, beheaded body flying backward. It almost hit the second knight, who had snuck behind it attempting to hide in Noah’s blind spot. With a growl, the undead tried to recover his stance, only to be blocked again by the merciless halberd. The two polearms clashed again and again. Despite his weapon’s longer reach, Noah couldn’t get a clean hit on his opponent, who slipped and dodged around like an eel.

Time slowly began to take its toll. Facing an opponent who felt no pain or fatigue, Noah’s defense began to crack. The poleaxe grazed him a few times and only the infallible protection of Nerodris seemed to protect its wearer from a fatal end. Finally, Noah overswung his halberd, leaving his right side wide open.

With a triumphant roar, the fiend swung down, aiming at the space between Noah's neck and shoulder. Time stretched in an agonizing moment before it was abruptly cut by a chuckle.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Got you!”

Twisting further sideways, Noah let the poleax blade pass beside him, burying deep into the ground. With a mighty stomp, he tore the hilt out of the fiend’s grip. Then, he rushed in, so close that their breastplates almost touched, and dug his clawed gauntlet in the tiny split between his enemy’s neck and the visor of his helmet. Albeit reinforced with the church’s blessing and crafted by master blacksmiths, the chainmail and gorget protecting the dead knight’s throat were no match for the amplified power of Noah and Nerodris.

With a hiss, dark particles began streaming into the lion armor, its delighted screeches resonating in Noah’s mind.

More!

Delicious!

Kill!

Leaving the now undoubtedly dead knight to slowly crumble down in a sad pile of bone and metal, Noah slowly turned around to face Nekor. The shaman’s dark eyes stared at the Duke of Norden with all the hatred in the world.

“So even this wasn’t enough to end you!?”

“Next time you summon evil spirits, choose ones that actually know how to use the weapons they are given. Although, I doubt there will be a next time.”

“Indeed, there won’t be. Those puppets did their job well enough.”

Saying that, the shaman closed his eyes and whispered something Noah couldn’t hear. And he didn’t need to. Strong gales rushed over the plane, bending the silver grass close to the ground. Within his head, Nerodris hummed in delight. Vile magic! And so much of it. Enough to feast until it was full! And it all streamed out of that tiny body.

With the speed of a released arrow, Noah shot forward and reached the shaman in three strides. In a swift move, his clawed gauntlet dug deep into Nekor’s chest.

“Intending to explode your soul and take us all with you? Not happening!”

“You can’t stop this, you Limerian dog!”

“You’ve never faced Nerodris.”

Nekor’s face twisted in pain as he screamed at the darkening sky. Powerful whirwind encircled the two men, its howling mixing with the shaman’s curses.

“I’ll end you! Beast! Monster! Help! How dare you ruin our plans? How dare you harm Akh-Moren?! Help! I’ll take you with me to the depths of despair! Help me!”

Little by little, Nekor’s cries died down, and with them, the tempest also subsided. The shaman’s knees bent, the only thing still keeping him standing being Noah’s iron grip.

Finish him off!

Nerodris wailed in his head. There was so much more magic. The light of that one’s soul was still there - alluring, bright, ready to be devoured.

Feed me more!

There were so many souls still left. Albeit without magic, they were still delicious. They would make him strong. Undefeatable. They were just little flies anyway. It was normal for the strong to prey on the weak.

Give me blood!

Crushing their skulls, slicing their throats, it was so easy. Why should such weak creatures be allowed to live? They would be happy to nourish him. Their useless lives would finally have a higher meaning. Their blood was so warm and sweet. Sweeter than wine. Sweeter than honey. Warmer than a woman’s embrace. Warm enough to melt his steely heart. That wonderful elation. That delicious sensation of ripping those feeble husks apart. The melody of screams and snapping bones. It was so beautiful - that red color painting the gray world so brightly vivid.

More!

The endless hole of hunger would soon be filled. Just one more. Or two. Or twenty. A hundred wouldn’t be enough. But they would eventually satiate him. So one more!

“Shut… up!” Noah squeezed through his teeth.

His knees hit the ground and he bent down. His bloody fingers scratched at the back of the lion helmet in desperation. Finally able to get a grip, he yanked the helmet away, ignoring the burning pain of the straps and clasp that scraped the skin under his chin. Cold air hit him in the face, the smell of colendro flowers, thunder, and earth enveloping him in a calming embrace. The whistling of the wind caressed his ears but couldn’t completely silence Nerodris’ bloodcurdling scream.

“Noah!”

From afar, a familiar voice called his name prompting him to lift his head. Despite his blurring vision, there was no mistake about the identity of the burly knight that was sprinting through the field.

“Stay back, Duncan!” rasped Noah.

Using the pole of his halbert to pull himself up, he shakily climbed to his feet. He leaned on the weapon and his face painfully twisted. Despite that, he hurried to look around. His eyes searched for remnants of the summoned dead, but except for some piles of bones and armor, they were all gone, the summoned spirits getting purified by the relics the moment the shamans’ control over them had been broken.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Noah motioned at the body in his feet.

“Drag Nekor away from me and bandage his wound.”

“That ungodly aberration still lives?” The arrogant but tired voice of Bishop Petronius came from next to him.

“He is,” hissed Noah and threw the cleric a bloodshot gaze. “And I expect him to stay that way.”

“His life is in the Father of Darkness' hands…”

“If he dies, Petronius, you’ll follow him!” The quiet reply made the cleric gulp and stop in his tracks.

Duncan waved at some knights who promptly carried Nekor away, but his eyes remained peeled at his lord. He tried to step closer but was immediately stopped by Noah’s outstretched arm.

“I said stay back.” Shakily lifting his halbert, he used its sharp tip to draw a circle on the ground. “No one is to cross this line unless I give you permission.”

“Boy,” Duncan’s metal fists balled and relaxed convulsively as he threw his friend and master a helpless gaze, “is Nerodris taking over?”

“Not yet,” squeezed Noah through his teeth and slowly sat down, putting the halbert on his crossed legs. “I need to concentrate now.”

“How can I help you?”

Noah threw him a final glance before closing his eyes.

“Should I fail… Do your best to kill me before I kill you.”