It was immediately apparent to Dorian that their attackers fought not as men, but as parts of something more, something that didn’t fear to lose those parts, so long as the goal of crushing their enemy was attained. Their long great swords cut through the first and second ranks rapidly, while they began backpedaling to avoid being caught by their suicidal attackers. They fight with no concern for themselves, like the shiggreth do, noted Dorian mentally, and they work in perfect coordination, as though they were controlled by a single mind.
Fortunately the Knights had had extensive experience fighting foes that did not fear their own deaths… backing through the doorway behind them, they used it to shield themselves from the weight of the crowd pressing inward. William and Aaron stepped slightly to the sides, where they could cut down any that crossed the threshold, while Dorian and Thomas blocked the enemy’s advance several feet back from the entry. Together they were able to render any foe foolish enough to enter their deadly circle into numerous pieces, and the stone floor before them soon looked like some grotesque abattoir.
Those penned in the entry hall began pulling at the side doors, attempting to find other means of ingress into the castle proper. They were met by the blades of the Knights guarding each door, but the fighting was desperate. Those unable to reach the defenders began using their large iron mauls to widen the doorframes; smashing masonry and stone blocks aside with a strength and ferocity that was difficult to believe. Dorian knew if their efforts persisted for more than a minute, they would soon be able to come at the defenders from all sides… and the fight would not likely last long after that.
“Flames!” commanded Dorian, in a voice that cut through the din, and the Knights prepared to use their swords in the manner that had caused the people of Gododdin to name their enchanted blades ‘Sun-Swords’.
As one, the Knights of Stone lowered their blades to point at their foes as if they were spears, and each of them uttered the command words that would unleash the power fettered within their magical seals. Incandescent flames rushed forth from their weapons, blazing with a white-hot heat that sent the temperature in the room quickly soaring. Each sword sent forth a radiant fan of flames that reached out almost five feet in front of its wielder, and the strange warriors attacking Castle Cameron began to burn, as the flames flowed over them from multiple directions.
The area rapidly filled with rancid, black smoke, as the ravenous flames consumed human flesh and rendered those caught into little more than burning fat and black resinous ash. Mordecai had designed the enchantment on the Knight’s swords with the express purpose of incinerating the bodies of the shiggreth, since that was the only way known to permanently dispose of them. The enchantment channeled power from the God-Stone and produced temperatures so great that almost anything the fire touched would be quickly reduced to its most basic elements.
The Knights kept up their incendiary assault for long seconds, letting the flames do their work. Experience had shown them time and again how long it took to render a corpse completely to ash and habit guided their hands. Almost a full minute passed before they relented and allowed the flames to die out, leaving a burnt silence filled with little more than the crack and pop of embers. Aside from the Knights, not a living soul stood in the ruined entry hall, and the remaining enemy had given up their attempts to enter.
“Damn that stinks!” yelled Sir Egan from the side hall he had been guarding. “I’ll never get used to that smell.”
“It isn’t that much worse than your armor after a week on the road,” joked Sir William. “I wouldn’t think it would be that hard for you to get used to it.” Several of the Knights chortled in appreciation of his joke, even as they all began to choke from the smoke that filled the room.
Dorian had little time for humor though; he knew how dangerous the smoke could be, especially given the enclosed space they were in. “Harold, Cyhan, Brian, and Jeffrey… move to my position in the great hall!” he barked out, and even before he had finished uttering the words he saw their forms emerging from the smoke, seeking clear air. “Grant, Egan, Phillip, and Edward… back up down those hallways as far as you need, but stay vigilant! You’re all that’s keeping them from entering and encircling us.”
Several long slow minutes passed while the smoke cleared, and the Knights of Stone waited patiently. Eventually Cyhan had enough of waiting and spoke up, “They aren’t coming back. They’ve got something else planned. I’m going to look.” Without waiting for confirmation of his decision, Cyhan stepped out, and picking his way through the smoldering ashes cautiously looked out the entrance to see where their opponents had gone. He visibly stiffened as he saw the figure approaching the door.
“What are they doing?” asked Harold from his position.
Cyhan didn’t answer; instead he seemed to be fighting to raise his sword, as though it had suddenly become immensely heavy. “You may not… enter… here,” he gasped out, as if even his breathing had become labored.
The shadow of a tall man fell across the threshold as Karenth the Just stepped into the hall. He merely smiled, as he watched Cyhan struggling to raise his blade. “Your will is strong o’ guardian, but it is nothing before my judgment… and I find you lacking.” Raising his hand the god prepared to unleash his might against the man daring to defy him.
“Wait Brother!” came a dozen voices from the castle yard. “Do not seek to spoil my fun.”
Karenth closed his hand into a fist and relaxed his arm, letting it fall to his side. “You dirty yourself playing with these creatures Doron, but if that is your wish.” Turning aside, Karenth continued walking forward, ignoring the Knights standing on either side of the entrance to the great hall. All of them were struggling to reach him, as if they were fighting against a powerful gale, the sheer force of his presence kept them at bay.
Only one of them stood unbowed. Dorian Thornbear watched Karenth’s approach calmly, as if the deity was simply another intruder. His sword rose lightly to point directly at the god’s chest as he drew close, “You will not enter this house,” he said simply.
Karenth was amused and his lip curled into a sneer as he glanced down at the blade leveled at him. “You are remarkably resilient, perhaps you are simply too stupid to intimidate. Will you try your flame upon me, Sir Knight?”
Dorian’s cheek twitched for a moment in annoyance. “I am unable to use a Sun-Sword,” he admitted with his typical honesty.
“Does not your impotence make you unsuited to lead these men?” asked Karenth.
“Power comes in many forms,” answered Dorian immediately, “and none of them grant the wisdom necessary to lead.” As he spoke, his sword snapped to the side and back again in a lightning-quick strike. So fast was his stroke, that even the shining god was caught unprepared, and the blade struck him cleanly in the neck with such force that he should have been decapitated. Unfortunately, the deity was not so easily slain. The blade stuck after passing no more than a half an inch through his skin; blood, the color of liquid gold, oozed from the wound.
Angry now, Karenth swatted the sword away with his left hand, sending the weapon flying from Dorian’s hands. At the same tim,e Karenth stepped forward, driving his right fist at Dorian’s armored chest.
Dorian was no stranger to hand to hand combat, however. Before the god’s blow could land, he side stepped, and moving too quickly for an observer’s eyes to see, he caught Karenth’s wrist as he swung. Twisting and using his other hand to drive the deity off-balance, he used his opponent’s momentum to throw him bodily across the room. Karenth slammed into the wall with such force that the stones cracked. His eyes opened wide with shock at the sudden reversal.