“I didn’t think I’d be so happy to see you again, Olin, Dusaak, and even you, Emanon.” said Lylen as Gunnolf made sure the stone seal wouldn’t budge no matter how many clacking bones were heard underneath.

  Olin gave a soft smile to them as Dusaak wandered to his side, “You really have the minstrel there to thank. I ran into him on the road, and he mentioned you three headed this way. Instantly, I knew it couldn’t be good.”

  “How did you know?” asked Atzler.

  “According to ancient texts of the Sun Temple, Axo Mine was once Zalloswarr, Crypt of Defilement during the Ilix Empire’s time,” Olin said. “Tell me what happened down there.”

  Gunnolf stepped before the human monk, “The Demigod of Death and Decay has been resurrected,” said the kobold dryly.

  Olin’s eyes went wide, and his expression turned into worry, “Nikros…Nikros of Death and Decay has been brought back?!” shock was plain on his face. “That makes sense now. Your blade─”

  Gunnolf cut him off, “Is the blade that keeps him sealed.”

  Olin gave a quizzical look, “Yet, you still have the Kazesuki-zhuken.”

  Gunnolf looked down, “Meaning he isn’t at full power, yet.” The black furred man took the blade from his waist and slid the blade from its sheath a couple of inches, the blade was midnight black, and Olin’s expression turned to fear. “The blade reeks of evil now, I doubt it will banish the undead now.” Gunnolf said.

  Olin tried to recompose himself. “It is the Cursed Sword of the Moon after all. But now, each life it claims will keep restoring Nikros’ power.” His gaze fell to Atzler, “I see you rescued a maiden there.”

  “Yeah, its Princess Eril of Illisea,” Atzler said.

  Olin’s eyes nearly popped. “That is relieving, but then how was Nikros revived?”

  Lylen and Atzler explained what Zarmhel did down there with Olin nodding along, when they finished, he seemed to have a little relief.

  “So, Nikros absorbed the soul of this Zarmhel instead of the soul of the princess whose ancestors sealed him. Meaning, he’s quite weak now but the Kazesuki-zhuken is useless against him,” said the monk. “Gunnolf, how many souls are required to restore his full power?”

  Gunnolf gritted his teeth as his head lowered, eyes hidden. “Twelve,” he muttered.

  Everyone’s face was a mixture of shock, horror and confusion. “How do you know for sure?” asked Atzler.

  Gunnolf raised the cursed sword still in its sheath, “Since this blade was passed to me, a voice echoes from in inside my head. It keeps count. When I inherited it, the voice was quietly muttering three-hundred and twenty.”

  If everyone else’s jaws could be on the floor in that moment, they would’ve been with the incredulous looks they all shared.

  “Within twenty years, you’ve claimed more than three-hundred lives with the Kazesuki-zhuken?” Lylen said with eyes bulging.

  Olin crossed his arms, a grin returned to his face, “When you consider Gunnolf’s skills and profession, that actually seems a bit on the low side. Does the sword only count people, or does it count monsters as well?”

  Gunnolf’s head turned to him, his stoic calm returned, “Both. I carry a tanto to keep the count down.”

  “We need to find a new way to defeat Nikros and refrain from letting Gunnolf use the sword,” said Lylen.

  Olin added, “I concur. First, we should ensure her highness will awaken and then return her to those bodyguards of hers wherever they are,” Olin said dryly. “Then we should depart for the Sun Temple to see if another method is in the historical texts on sealing Nikros once more.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Emanon and Atzler nodded with Lylen’s and Olin’s ideas. Dusaak was merely curled up at Olin’s feet waiting for movement somewhere. Gunnolf huffed and began strolling away toward the entrance of the mine.

  “Gunnolf?” Lylen called out to him, but he kept going.

  Slaughter them all right now! Gunnolf heard the voice which he now associated as Nikros’ and it was louder to him more than ever. He kept walking even as the voice repeated itself.

  Lylen went after the tall ronin, “Gunnolf, come back! Where are you going?”

  Olin stared after Gunnolf with Lylen coming up behind. “You should come with us, friend,” the monk invited him.

  Gunnolf paused in his steps, his head turned to the left as he said, “You now know why I travel alone. I cannot discard this duty, this burden. Nor can I be around others with it. The voice I hear tells me to kill you all. I failed my Master twice and will not allow a third. I shall not draw this blade again, but I must ensure the madness I hear will not take over.”

  “Self-pitying bastard,” Atzler said angrily. “We can help you.”

  “Indeed, perhaps my songs will soothe the voice in your head,” Emanon added.

  “Gunnolf, we should stay together.” Lylen went to touch his arm.

  The kobold turned on her and drew his tanto, “Don’t follow me!” he snarled.

  Kill, kill, kill! The voice of Nikros in his mind was stronger, louder than ever but when he saw Lylen’s face, his mind flashed back to that little girl again. The memory overrode the voice of the demi-god as he paused inches away from the blade touching her face. The little red-haired elf girl had that same concerned look when Gunnolf had to protect her from brigands on the road and the tachi on his hip claimed their lives swiftly.

  “Are you going to kill me, Gunnolf?” Lylen asked.

  He sheathed the short blade. “No. I will leave alone. You may go onward to the Sun Temple. I doubt the Kazesuki-zhuken will be useful from this point forward.”

  “Where will you go?” Olin asked.

  “Wherever my feet take me,” Gunnolf replied.

  “What if we need to find you?” Emanon asked.

  Gunnolf was silent and after a moment he said, “You shouldn’t.” He then quietly headed for the mine entrance and everyone watched him go.

  ***

  Awakening in a bed, Eril’s eyes opened. She sat up, seeing her surroundings, she was in a wooden boarded room with a nightstand near the bed. An empty chair was in the corner across from her. The window to her right had golden light shining through indicating sunset wouldn’t be too long from now. A rap at the door startled her.

  “Your Highness, are you well?” the voice was familiar, that young yet masculine voice had her cheeks flush, and she couldn’t help but smile as her heart skipped.

  “I am, you may enter,” she told the man at the door.

  Entering, adorned in his auginite armor and with his iconic helmet on, Chester stood before the princess he had sought after for seemingly forever now. “I am so relieved to see you unharmed your Highness.” He immediately went to one knee with his head down. “My deepest apologies for not finding you sooner and even deeper for not providing better security to ensure your safety. I cannot forgive my actions on this matter and will allow the King to punish me as he sees fit for such blunder.”

  Eril shook her head, “Sir Chester, you are not at fault. I admit, I have little memory of being taken and barely remember a man approaching me inside of my room at the inn of Saha’dryr, but I am safe now. I greatly thank the efforts you and your men went to finding me.”

  “Milady, the credit goes to a pair of elves, a minstrel, and a monk from the Sun Temple,” he paused. “And they even attribute your rescue to the actions of a kobold ronin which I find hard to believe, but what matters is you are safe and sound. Me and my men happened to be in the vicinity when the monk found me to tell me how to reach you.”

  She smiled softly and her eyes were pools of deep blue gratitude, “My thanks to the brave individuals who rescued me.”

  “May we return to Listagan, your Highness?” Chester asked.

  “I want to personally thank my rescuers, Sir Chester. Are they…wherever this place is?” she realized she still didn’t know where she was.

  “This is the town called Parcielle, Highness, nestled within Domon Valley. Nearly two days’ travel northwest of Saha’dryr and those who aided in your rescue I believe have moved on.”

  “I see,” she said solemnly. “We need to press onward to meet with the one in charge of this town as well. Their domain is the entirety of Domon Valley is it not?”

  Chester gave a smile through his basilisk helmet. “I will make the necessary preparations and request audience with them. We can start tomorrow morning after you have a bit more rest.”

  Her ice blue eyes locked with his, “Thank you for everything Sir Chester. You are the best knight in my father’s ranks.”

  He stood once more and gave a simple bow before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Princess Eril was always fond of Chester. She went to get up but winced in agony, clutching her right side. She pulled back her dress, “By the Dragon Gods…” her words trailed off as she saw a black runic marking on the right side of her abdomen. Etched in three vertical lines with a sharp horseshoe like outer line to it, the brand ached and throbbed. “Sir Chester!”