Chapter 15: The Carriage from Hell
1902 Words
The sky was overcast.
The rain fell onto the dark ground, but when it splashed up again it took on a dark reddish brightness, just like cold rain falling from the sky, but when it splashed up it turned into a rain of fire.
Shrouded forms were everywhere, the beasts of the Lady Nightwalkers crouched tamely on the ground, their heads tumbled not far from each other, blood gurgling out of their cavities - the ground was covered in blood, though normal people might not see it. The blood was so viscous that puddles of it could not be washed away by the torrential rain, spreading only in irregular outlines in all directions.
As for the big man wielding the hammer ......
Alas, his dissolution into fragments was too brief and too dry. If you're willing to hold the dirt up and differentiate it finely, you might be able to find a bit of bone crumbs?
That level of cruelty is considered rare even in the Dark World.
The half-human, half-bird Mrs. Ponfil flapped her wings to escape from this terrifying dark rain, but she had just flapped her wings and flown when an elegant voice rang in her ears.
"Will you not keep them company, ma'am?"
A gentle wind brushed Mrs. Ponfil's cheeks, and the next moment her head fell from mid-air.
The last monk in black shivered and looked at the devil standing in the darkness, he forgot that he had betrayed his faith long ago, and nodded the cross on his chest, "It's impossible, you ...... you are ...... "
"Hush."
The devil put his pale and slender index finger on his lips and resumed that smiling look. The black-clad friar, however, would rather be judged himself by those of the Order than see him corroborate his words.
"Be cautious, Mr. Friar. Now is not the time to utter that name."
The black-clad friar groaned and turned into ashes.
"I'm sorry, but time is limited, so I'll have to ask you all to sleep in the ground for a long time."
The devil seemingly bowed towards the wreckage of this ground.
A bit of scarlet fluttered down from mid-air.
"Ah."
The devil looked up, his mood suddenly turning bad again.
"Those damned guys, they nearly ruined my Rosebud!"
He stuck the red rosebush in his chest, perhaps having shed a piece when he had just sent Mrs. Pomphrey on her way. The devil stretched out his pale hand and caught the piece of rosebush petal that had fallen from the sky.
The petal was scarlet in color, as if it had been dipped in blood.
The devil gently pinched the petal and took it into his mouth, and the piece of rose turned into real blood in his mouth ...... This is the drop of blood that dripped from his sire s fingertips at that time, and it turned into the rose that was inserted in the devil s clothes. The devil sighed.
He snapped his fingers.
The black stern fire noiselessly ignited in the rain, burning a field of corpses cleanly.
The devil turned around and peered in the direction the king had left.
He could so love a stormy night like this.
It was the perfect time for all the bloodshed, all the viciousness, all the betrayal and death to play out.
"Now." His tone lightened, "My dear sire, please let me take your beautiful soul."
Since he was going to pick up his dear sire, it was only natural to have a row worthy of his sire's honorable status. This makes the devil a little difficult ...... He has never cared much about these things, and has gotten too many things by dishonorable means without using them much. After thinking for a moment, the devil clapped his hands.
A lake of sulfuric fire appeared on the ground.
Rain fell into that boiling lake of fire, instantly filling it with a blanket of white gas. The lake of fire tumbled, and the magma splashed down onto the surrounding land, which quickly scorched ...... something slowly rising from it.
It was a carriage.
A low hissing sound, pulling the wagon were nightmares shrouded in a cloudy gray mist. After the nightmares came out of the lake of fire, the sulfur filled lake gradually shrunk.
Eventually all that was left on the ground was a carriage that only the most deranged patient could imagine a glimpse of.
Senile, the spine of some ferocious beast formed the four corner pillars of the wagon. The exquisite bone wings of bats and scythes lay out the magnificent walls of the carriage in a marvelous way, and thin skeletons of tenebrous serpents coiled around the windows, with ethereal blue fire cloth in the holes of those serpent skulls, like tiny blue roses. The wheels of the carriage are set in the center of four huge skulls, skulls in the hollow eye sockets of bright lava tears flow down, but the skulls give people the feeling is clearly in the smile.
This white bone carriage was bizarre and terrifying, yet it revealed a most evil artistic beauty.
The nightmares hissed lowly, as if accusing the devil of forgetting them for too long.
The Devil was lazy most of the time, hundreds of years had passed since he had last summoned this white bone carriage.
"This is to greet His Most Gracious Majesty. Be decent, little ones."
The devil protested.
The Devil surveyed the wagon for a moment and walked around it as he reached out and brushed over the hideous and beautiful white bones, whereupon leafless rosebud branches vined themselves around them. On the spines, a scarlet rose bloomed.
The devil was at last satisfied with the wagon.
He drove the white bone wagon into the heavy, thick ink night rain.
The skeleton spun up along with the wheels, and drops of sulfur dripped down from beneath the skeleton's eye sockets in a shower of stars that snaked away into the darkness before fading away again.
Nightmare pulled the white-bone wagon through the swamp where a battle had just taken place.
One by one, the souls, clad in black armor, rose from the swamp. The morose white skeletons on the wheels of the carriage opened their mandibles, and those souls were sucked in like smoke. When there were no more souls to devour, the skeleton's upper and lower jaws collided, making a creepy sound.
Like elation, but also like dissatisfaction.
"Well well well."
The devil soothed briskly.
"The prologue will open and you will have more food."
The night lord called up.
..................
The wind stopped, but the storm continued for what seemed like an eternity.
The king and his sworn knights marched through the rain.
Though he managed to lure the Gurundi cavalry into the swamp, the king had paid the price - only six of his faithful sworn knights remained. All of them, except the king, were more or less wounded.
The group was in a terrible state.
The late September rain came at a bad time, cold as snow but powerful.
The torrential rain poured down on the body, and even with armor, it still clattered down through the cracks, making it seem as if one was actually submerged in an ice cave. During the battle, the intense movement would teach one to forget the freezing cold for a while. But when the battle is over, the cold becomes more and more deadly under the exhaustion.
The sworn knights were frozen with blue lips, not to mention the king who didn't even have armor.
The king's silver hair was wet from the rain and plastered to his face, his face was horribly pale, but his lips were perversely flushed with an almost demonic crimson.
The king pursed his lips tightly and said no more.
The sworn knights thought he was angry at the assassination this night, but only he knew what was the matter with him ...... He had to pull tightly on the reins, with the help of the stirrups to keep from falling headlong from his horse. The storm was cold, and he was cold and hot, and his damned headache was as bad as a bone.
If they didn t get to a warm place to rest soon, I was afraid that these people would not end well.
In this day and age, disease was a worse enemy than the heavy cavalry of the Gurundi. A cold rain, a heat, could easily kill a man's little life.
A young sworn knight acted as a scout, walking slightly ahead. However, on a rainy night like this, he couldn't be too far away from the king and the others, and he could only pray for heaven's blessing for the scouting's usefulness.
By the Holy Lord, they couldn't afford a second wave of attacks.
Suddenly, the sworn knight saw a warm fire burning up ahead.
With a sudden shock, he strangled the reins and crossed his long sword.
However, quickly, the young sworn knight let his heart drop slightly.
Because of the torrential rain, the light from the torches wavered and wasn't very big, only vaguely illuminating a rough shadow. A lone knight rode his horse and stood in the rain, his hair prominent in the firelight.
The sworn knight recognized him.
It was the owner of Tru City, Baron Sheen with his brilliant blonde hair.
The sworn knight cautiously drove his horse forward, his long sword still in a guarded stance, "For the glory of the Rose?"
"For the glory of the Rose."
The blonde-haired Baron Sheen replied, owing his horse with a modest and proper demeanor.
"The storm came suddenly, and I came to greet His Majesty and his ministers for fear of any damage."
The sworn knight sighed in relief.
The negotiating missions followed His Majesty's orders to travel directly to Seln, and from there departed back to the palace. It was normal for Tru Castle not to know what had just happened. And yet, any noble with a brain who wanted to move up the ladder would make a point of traveling out of the city to court the king when they saw such a downpour tonight.
"That's good."
The sworn knight said. He had taken a shot from a heavy cavalryman on his shoulder, and the wound saw pieces of his bony armor embedded in his flesh, and by now he was barely able to hold on.
"His Majesty is just ahead."
The sworn knight lowered his sword without giving a signal of warning. He panted wearily.
The blonde baron straightened up and gave a faint smile.
The torrential rain was falling.
Baron Sheen remembered the day the king had arrived, the rose that had been nurtured by the most lavish and dreamy of palaces to produce the most flamboyant ...... rose that had brought death and corruption to Rogaland.
He smiled, the rose will always fade, only Rogaland is eternal.
The sworn knight turned around and saw the king and the other knights appear within view, he revealed a delighted smile and waved his hand towards the king and the others.
The king raised his eyes, and in the next moment his face changed.
"Duck!"
He shouted.
At the same time the Oath Knight waved his hand, Baron Sheen raised it high and swung it downward.
A dozen longbowmen leapt up from the dry grass.
- Writer
