While Sangara pondered his new surroundings, the escorting mist whipped and surged as it slowly emptied out of the grotto, leaving him to discover new horrors.
Stone hewed braziers sparked to life, shining dim dancing flames of a ghastly-lit arena. A better look at the walls confirmed his suspicions that the cavities were indeed burrows, constructed without rhyme or reason in placement and design, as though great rats had chewed out their homes in the granite flesh of this fetid prison. His eyes descended the burrowed wall, taking notice of the foul ichor that stained the edges and pool at the base. The length of the wall was covered with mounds of the meaty bones and skulls of men, which lay strewn about him, peppering every darkened corner and lighted stretch of the chamber. Mixed into the vile heaps were the torn raiment and ripped corselets of the many foreign nations and tribes. The scarlet soiled robes of Xaftaan nobles bestrewn alongside the silken tunics of haughty Daehans from the faraway south. Mantles of hardy Kajanjuden hunters scattered among the ripped mail coats of Manden and Asuah heroes. Sangara also spied the gruesome remains of the base and fierce thunder-stone mandrills—-the gongberous. But the Sacred Songs declared them driven into the far north by the “Mighty Seven”. Few were ever seen alive within the borders of the Seven Cities, entering mostly as the pelts and odd ornaments of lucky Sonkoden hunters.
A thunderous roar rocked the burrowed depths, shaking Sangara out of his trance. Then a hundred more roars broke out from the multi-laired walls as he drew his notched blade. At that moment, the hall sprang to life as the hideous forms of the gongberous bounded onto the flat surface of their feasting hall, crushing bones and skulls underfoot.
The lusty vigor of his tribe hummed within his heart as he witnessed the ancient foes of men gather before him. If he was to fall in battle then he swore to give a heroic account of himself; one sword-borne Bouran against a hundred fanged horrors.
The growing multitudes slowly advanced, with deep-throated growls as stone-clubs scraped the littered ground, backing Sangara slowly away from the crescent shaped advance. His eyes darted across the grim visage looking for first blood, but they abruptly halted and grudgingly lopped back on their bow-legged feet. He took notice of the fear and reverence displayed from their snarling snouts and this change in nature gave Sangara a morbid sense of hope. Perhaps they heeded his ferocious carriage. However, as they retreated, they looked past and over him, causing him to turn and glare at the cause of the recoiling horde.
A massive gongberou lumbered from the shadows dripping foam from its ghastly snout. The brute stood three spears tall from foot to crest with the stained bones of both men and beast covered its barreled chest and the skulls of its valiant meals decorated its waist with a leather strap. Graying fur covered bulging forearms and legs as its snout glistened black as its violent eyes. Two sabered fangs flanked a blood-besmeared beard. Bow-muscled trunks held it upright and heavy arms carried grim-nailed paws, which could easily tear Sangara asunder.
“Would you rather exchange wanton blows with the gongberou brood? Aye, man-boy” chimed the phantom voice.
Sangara raised his sword and with the radiance of courage charged the towering dread. A great bellow lanced from its maw as the distance closed between Sangara and its rushing outstretched mitts. Hairy paws grasped Sangara’s taut limbs with ravenous intent and carried him straight to its gapping jaws. Sangara, seeing his head dart towards flashing fangs, swung his lower body back, kicking both his legs skyward; driving its lower jaw shut. And in a fit of pain, tossed Sangara aside, sending him against the far wall.
Sangara staggered to his feet from the death-dealing impact. Over the ringing in his ears, he heard the brutish throng jostle and howl with disquieting excitement. His body ached and the thought of broken ribs creased his brow. He watched his towering foe turn and charge looking to grab him once more. Sangara, with no time to think, bounded towards it, sidestepping the extended grappling talons and cut deep into its forearm, slicing through fur and tissue. Its bloodied arm swung a frenzied mallet of hard flesh grazing Sangara in the back of his skull, sliding him across the littered floor into a pile of meat-rotting bones. The beast’s agonizing roar agitated the on-looking crowd as their king bled from its torn forearm. Raising himself on his elbows, Sangara saw the agile behemoth bearing down on him; its’ left paw descending to smash his skull into a wet pulp. Quickly, he raised high his sword point and buried the ridged blade deep into its fleshy palm delivering a crippling blow. A great howl rocked the cavern walls as the full length of Manden steel sank deep within its arm severing tendon and sinew from wrist to elbow. Sangara quickly twisted the blade causing it to violently withdraw its damaged arm with a metallic sucking sound and showering him in grisly black juice.
The air shook with barks and the violent smashing of stone-clubs as the gongberou chief, crippled by the cold magic of men, twisted and screamed to its knees. Sangara rushed over to the kneeling foe, his sword buzzing with a mighty sweep, slicing muscle and bone, and sent the giant head into the air onto a pile of welcoming bones and grinning skulls.
The grisly hall fell silent as the feral horde retreated into the recesses of their holes. Black glaring eyes spat curses as they left the headless mound of fur and blood with the victor.
* * *
Sangara’s sagging limbs succumbed to the weight of fatigue
