Then it was all gone.
Chapter Two
I knelt, hands on the ground, looking down at smooth flagstones of beautifully figured marble. There was a rich floral scent in the air, like blossoms. I took a breath, when a voice spoke and I raised my head to see a powerful warrior standing a little way from me.
“Stand, Leofwine of Saxe,” he said. “We have only a little time together. Stand.”
I stood and faced him.
He was a big man, powerfully built with a long black beard flowing down over his decorated steel breastplate. Gauntlets of leather and steel covered his massive hands, and a skirt of heavy chainmail dropped down to cover his knees. Heavy riding boots showed under thick shin guards.
Despite his obvious power and strength he looked afraid. Anxiety clouded his bluff, broad face. Above his black beard, he had a strong nose and piercing dark eyes. His head was bald, and his high, intellectual brow was beaded with sweat.
All my senses were taken up with this new scene, and yet my mind was still aware of the moment which I had just left; Cara, frozen in time with an arrow in mid flight, and a horde of wicked ratmen caught in the fearful moment before the charge.
“You have come at the bidding of the Keepers?” said the warrior.
“I have. And you, you are Theodoric Ironside. I recognize the breastplate from the skeleton. Come, Ironside, say what you need to say.”
He glanced around, fearfully. “I have little time in which to say it. My curse has left me for a moment, but soon it will return... But you have come, and that is well. I am Theodoric Ironside. In life, I used an ancient magic to pour my prowess, my strength, and the power of my Glimmer into my Helm. It became a mighty artefact during my life, a vast repository of power. When my body died at last, I felt the power of the Helm become something beyond what it had been during my life. My spirit found rest in the long halls of Saxen warriors who die in honor, but my essence, my strength, my skill, and my battle lust combined in my Helm to create a magical item of immense power. It became an artifact that would grant the Persona of Ironside to one who was worthy. For years uncounted, it had awaited the coming of a warrior who could claim it.”
Here, he glanced around fearfully again. A look of sudden pain crossed his face. “Agh! It comes again! Leofwine of Saxe, you are the warrior who can claim the power of my Helm. You must claim it, and drive the vile taint from the land!”
Suddenly, he raised both hands and clawed at the space around him. The air around him was foggy and vague, and there was no clear definition to anything except his figure and mine, and the intricately carved marble slabs of the floor. And yet as I watched, a black mist gathered around Ironside’s feet. It trickled upward, inexorable as an incoming tide across flat sands. It wrapped around his shoulders, tendrils of darkness flicking out toward his mouth and his eyes.
The sight of this proud and noble warrior fumbling in rising terror at the encroaching mist raised a sudden and powerful anger in me. Without thought, I flung out one hand before me and ran at him. To my surprise, a sudden bright light shone from my hand. It bathed Ironside in white light, almost painfully bright, and the black mist was pushed away from him. The evil mist gathered together, until it was like a twisted humanoid form that loomed over Ironside.
“Back, daemon!” I roared as I ran past the warrior and crashed into the figure of mist. Wild light flashed and flared from my hands and I grabbed it, feeling greasy, slippery skin in my hands. There was a high-pitched, inhuman scream of pain, and through it a deep snarling voice roared at me. It sounded not like one voice, but a hundred all shouting in unison.
“Soul Binder!” the huge voice roared. For one long moment, I was surrounded by oily black mist, and I felt it pressing on me from all sides. From deep within myself, I felt a raw and ruthless power arise, and it burst from me in a blaze of white light, suffusing every fiber of my being with pure power.
Then it was gone.
“You defeated it! You did what I could not!” It was Ironside. He stood by me, one gauntleted hand on my arm, and his face was no longer pale or afraid.
“It was the Festering!” I said. “The Festering in physical form!”
“It was. When it corrupted my Helm and drew upon my power, it disturbed my rest and brought me back to the realm that sits on the cusp between death and life. But you have broken its grip on me, and my Helm will be yours now! I pass to you my power, my skill in battle, and my mighty soul-bound armor! Go well, now, Leofwine! Cleanse the world of the Festering wherever you find it! Free us, the great warriors of ancient days, from the corrupting influence of the evil Festering, and glory in our power! Farewell.... farewell!”
Before my eyes, he withdrew, leaning backward into the mist as if all the weight had gone out of him. His face became still, and his shape became formless and vanished even as his final farewell echoed around the strange, gray, liminal space.
There was a moment of blackness, and then, as sudden as a lightning bolt, my consciousness slammed back into my body.
The explosion of energy which accompanied my return to the battle scene took me by surprise. There was a boom like a thunderclap, and an expanding blast of bright energy swept like an enormous ripple outward from my body. It washed over Cara,
