MYRIAD WORLDS: THE DEMON LORD GILGAMESH

CHAPTER TWO: Purger Knight

Two days since his departure from Bronte, Midgol, Gilgal rode into Wharfdale, Laos in a canter. His hair was disheveled and his boots were caked with mud from the hard riding and crossing of the river Lao earlier.

Harvey’s hoof beat and the tinkling of wind chimes were the only sounds to be heard in the once boisterous town. Wharfdale seemed to be holding its breath. There was also a stink to the air. The few people he saw looked like their spirits had been crushed. They looked at him with their dead eyes before continuing their silent, contemplative shuffling. Gilgal’s major concern then was the total absence of the town guards and Jedaz.

He rode, with Harvey slowing down to a trot as they rounded a bend in the highway and came upon the town square. Harvey neighed sadly and Gilgal’s breath caught. Before them were corpses piled atop one another to form a rotting mound. The missing guards were no longer missing.

He dismounted, wrapped a cloth moistened with conjured water over his nose and mouth before approaching the pile. He examined the corpses and found most of them incomplete.

A gleam caught his eye, revealing an enchanted sword sticking out from the pile. Lying beside the sword was a faceless Purger Knight. He calmly pulled out the sword and tore off the Knight’s medallion before standing and saluting the dead Knight. Whispers made him turn around to face a small crowd of spectators who were staying well away from the pile as though a barrier had been erected to keep them out. Among them was a tiny, unassuming man whom Gilgal recognized as Bilivert Brackson, the mayor of Wharfdale.

Gilgal moved away from the pile and sheathed the sword on an empty scabbard attached to his saddle bag. He poured the medallion into the bag also, then stepped up to meet the mayor.

“Gilgamesh of Nur, at your service. What happened here, Sir?” he spoke.

Bilivert nodded shakily. “What’s it look like, Purger?”

“Where’s the Messenger?”

“Locked up along with a couple others. The town has belonged to the demon since three days ago. Two from your Order were here at the time – they’re rotting in that pile now. He’s taken over the town and turned us to livestock.” The mayor spat and shuddered. “It’s like the stories said. Listen, Purger, I know it’s your duty to protect us from the likes of him, but the pile is already high enough. Leave now. If you’re lucky he’s not even noticed your arrival.”

“Did any of my siblings run, mayor? They didn’t and neither will I,” Gilgal said firmly as his expression tightened and he walked back to Harvey. He took down and opened his saddle bag, retrieving two silver daggers from a hidden compartment and fastening them to the small sheaths on his boots. He rifled through the bags again and pulled out the two enchanted wrist gauntlets, fastening them around his forearms.

Gilgal sealed the bag, adjusted the straps of his scabbard and walked off towards the mayor’s house. It took him less than 4 minutes to arrive and he stood in front of the building, inhaling deeply to center himself with the magic in the environment.

“Another one?” asked a deep voice that vibrated with amusement.

Gilgal stayed still and didn’t reply.

“A dumb one too. No matter. I see you have ears at least, Purger. Leave this place and never return. I’ve ended two of your kind and I’m starting to grow a conscience. It’s not right to let you offer yourself up as a sacrifice when you could be so much more. But of course, you’d need to drop your sword, medallion and gauntlets then retire forever, won’t you, dear Purger?”

The demon had been transmitting its voice through the air currents when it began to speak, but it was no longer doing that.

Gilgal looked up at the source of the voice that had revealed itself. The voice came from the mouth of a humanoid demon with horns shaped like those of a bull. The demon was an Ngul Gomer; known to most human scholars outside the profession as an Agnihorn or Goat demon.

The demon’s skin was covered in brick red scales that were thick enough to defend against ordinary swords. Around his neck was a collection of beads strung together by wires. Each bead was testament to his rank in the chieftaincy. The demon’s muscular tail dragged on the floor as he approached Gilgal with two swords held casually by his sides.

Gilgal drew his own sword and charged, but his forward momentum suddenly reversed and he was hurled backwards by the demon’s telekinetic push. He landed hard on his feet and drew a sigil before himself, focusing the intent on the solid nature of Gebo.

The sigil spell raised layers of dirt that gathered and solidified before him into a sturdy shield. He charged again with the sigil resistant to the demon’s attacks, then leaped and cut down on the demon.

The clang of steel on steel rang through the compound with each parry and deflection. The two opponents were nearly equally matched in skill, speed and strength.

Gilgal reached for a silver dagger which he gripped with his left hand. The demon charged him, striking out with his recessive arm to cleave Gilgal’s neck, but the blow was parried, and Gilgal dropped into a squat, coming up within the demon’s guard and thrusting his dagger into the exposed flank.

The demon howled and stumbled backwards before dropping on his knees. From the wound on his torso poured out the lava-like blood of the Ngul Gomers. He looked up as he felt warm steel pressed against his neck.

Gilgal was standing over the demon and wasn’t surprised that he felt nothing for the fellow except pity. He was going to make his tally up to 810, it seemed.

“Why?” he asked the demon.

“I had to,” the demon hissed in reply, then tried to reach for his fallen swords, but Gilgal’s knee to the face stopped him short. He coughed and spat more lava.

“Why were you holding the town hostage? Where you commanded to do so?”

“It had to be done, you foul Purger! What…!?”

The demon’s next words were never heard as Gilgal’s sword silenced him finally. The head fell and a fountain of lava spurted from the neck. Gilgal flung the lava from his sword and turned in thought, then froze.

He locked eyes with a woman who was cradling an infant close to her bosom, with eyes wide in fear. Gilgal looked around to ascertain that the woman was indeed alone and was exiting the mayor’s house. She wasn’t in chains nor was she bruised. She was dressed in such finery that he might have taken her for a princess. And she was beautiful. Too beautiful.

Without taking his eyes off the woman, Gilgal closed his hand around his medallion and started approaching her. The pentacle inscribed in the medallion had been blessed at the altar of goddess Eudora and could protect against normal demonic mind control.

The woman took a step back with each one forward that Gilgal took, until her back hit the wall of the mayor’s house. She bared her fangs then at Gilgal and hissed in the serpentine language of the succubi.

Gilgal paused mid-step and groaned as his suspicion was confirmed. He drew a revealing sigil with his left hand and aimed it at the succubus. Her form seemed to distort and then was replaced by the nude form of a woman with large bat-like wings, horns and a serpentine tail. Her mane of blonde hair reached to her waist. Her toes and fingers ended in sharpened talons and she hissed at Gilgal, revealing a long tongue hidden between sharpened fangs. She immediately grabbed the child by the throat and held it before Gilgal threateningly.

“This is unexpected,” Gilgal said as he appeared to relax his stance. “Lilith has formed an alliance with Hornker now, it seems.”

“Come any closer and I’ll snap his neck!”

“Go ahead. He’s not mine,” Gilgal replied, crossing his arms across his chest. He was sure to keep the edges of his blades free from his body. “But I’m curious; after killing him, what next?”

“Ah, Gilgamesh. You did take after your mother in most ways,” replied the succubus, smiling triumphantly at Gilgal’s shocked expression. “She was selfish too. Very much so infact that…”

“And you know my mother?”

“But of course. She’s my elder sister. I’m Carilliene the twentieth. She’s the tenth.”

“Aye,” Gilgal nodded sagely, then jerked his head to look around them. “Remind me please, what is this town called?” he asked, his voice even sounding confused.

“You don’t really expect me to believe you’ve forgotten the name of the town you’re supposed to be defending?”

“Hardly. I just want to make sure you do. This is the town of Wharfdale in the kingdom of Laos. Laos, being a kingdom within the confederacy, where demonic activity is still banned and punishable by death. This is not Poles, nor Merhol nor Lytham–”

“Or Slodoroon nor Hazelwood?” Carilliene interrupted, irritated. “I am well aware where I am, but I don’t care,” she added with a smirk as she hugged the child tighter to herself.

Gilgal unfolded his hands. “Drop the child and leave or I’ll make you.”

“You killed Austinphas without giving him the same option. Why am I different? Because I’m a succubus and you consider me feeble?” Carilliene asked as the smile disappeared from her face to be replaced by a scowl.

“He killed my siblings. He had it coming.”

“And you think me innocent?”

“Innocence is relative. All the killing in this town was done by Austinphas, so you’re innocent of that. The babies you steal and the life force that you’ve drained in the past is not for me to judge. I’ve given you this chance to leave. Take it,” Gilgal answered and took a step forward.

His step faltered though, when he felt a slithering cold brush the edges of his thoughts. He smiled and pushed back roughly, staring the succubus in the eye. “I’ve dealt with succubi many times that your lust magic no longer works on me.”

“Well then,” Carilliene hissed and flicked her free hand in Gilgal’s direction.

A stone bust flew from within the house at Gilgal, who evaded on time and charged the succubus. She threw the child at him and spread her wings to fly.

Gilgal caught the boy in midair and crashed to his knees. One of his daggers tracked a parabolic curve in the air, spinning end over end before cleaving one of the demon’s wings. Carilliene shrieked loudly as she tumbled from the sky.

Gilgal left the wailing boy by the entrance and charged at the succubus who still thrashed on the ground. He narrowly escaped her tail strike, but that delay gave the succubus time for her retaliation. She came at him with talons striking on silver. Gilgal grit his teeth against the powerful assault, then lost his footing. He saw the succubus’ jaws bite down on his head and fed her his dagger, even as she bore him to the ground.

Carilliene howled in frustration and rage, seeking and failing to dig her claws into Gilgal’s sides as they rolled around the floor. Her teeth closed around the dagger again and she wrenched it from Gilgal’s hands, but his knuckles struck her jaw, rattling her brain. Rage filled her and she bit down on the arm, digging her fangs deeper.

Gilgal grunted in pain. He closed his eyes momentarily and felt the electricity in the air. He channeled it into his body, silently calling on god Rhaido to enhance the force, then he pushed it out through his hands at the demon. The massive surge of lightning threw the demon off him with her body smoking until she fell many feet away. Some townsfolk had begun gathering but they fled as the demon fell close to them.

Gilgal stood and picked up his sword. He tried to move then buckled as his weight on his left leg disturbed a deep wound just above his knee. Furiously he pinned the sword to the ground and reached up to unlace his jerkin. He dug his hands into his inner pockets and pulled out a long strip of bandage which he hastily wound around the bleeding gash. With his constitution, the wound should heal in no more than an hour, but his anger rose.

He was angry with himself. He’d been underestimating the demon and now he had a limp for his stupidity.

He stared at the demon from where he stood and sighed. The power he’d used in that attack seemed to have exceeded what the demon was prepared for. He limped to the body and poked it with his sword. There was no blood, and flakes of ash fell off. She was thoroughly charred.

“Is it dead?” a voice whispered from the crowd that was assembling again.

Gilgal held out a hand to the crowd and they stopped immediately. He then swung his sword and decapitated the succubus with a grimace. He’d felt the cold fingers of her mind even as she lay dying, and that made him think. Despite the fact that it was unusual to see Demons from different races working together, it was more rare to see a succubus so deep within the confederacy.

His blood pulsed stronger this time with the rising temperature of his medallion and gauntlets as his wounds began to heal. He waved the townsfolk over, but his mind still wasn’t at ease. The faster he made it to the Castle and renew the enchantments on his medallion, the better he’d feel.