Pure terror gleaned in the scraggly horse’s sunken eyes, glossed over with years, or even decades, of abuse to the poor animal. Every bone in its body was visible to Alazandrae as she neared the beast of burden. Her hands were outstretched, her heart beat like a steam engine chugging away down a track, sweat rained from her brow, but she had to push through. This was the only way to save her mother.

  “Whoa, whoa! Calm down!” She tried to calm the beast as its front legs jumped into the air, the horse tried to escape, but was trapped in the stable with a severed head. Alaz dropped the chains holding the horse in and grabbed its reigns. “I’m not here to hurt you.” She petted the beast’s snout, calming it down with her sweet words.

  She grabbed a bucket of feed and hung it under the horse’s mouth, distracting it, allowing it to eat. She strapped the saddle on as quickly as she could, her blood stained, sweaty hands fumbling with the clasps and leather.

  “Shit, come on, not now.” She glanced up to the road as her hands trembled. She couldn’t see the monsters fighting Rigor from here, but she could hear the gnarly grunts and claws scraping against metal. He wouldn’t last long under their onslaught. She finally strapped the saddle on, grabbed a coil of rope from the stalls, and tied it to the horse.

  She ran out into the road, grabbing the dead Black Guard with his entrails hanging out. She tied the roped to him, getting around his armpits and around his neck, grabbing other body parts to tie on as well until she had a string full of bodies at her disposal.

  Her head kept twisting back to see how Rigor was fairing. The Death Knight had killed a few more creatures, but it was not enough for him to win this fight.

  She ran back to the stall and slid on the bridle. She climbed atop the beast and petted its mangy mane, “Come on girl, this is our one shot. Ya be free after this. Heyah!” She kicked the rear of the horse with her boots, engaging the animal in a trot out of the stalls and into the street.

  She pulled the reigns to face the horse towards Rigor, kicking it again. The horse neighed and jumped slightly at the sight of the monstrous mob. She whipped down her reigns, “Heyah!” The horse took off sprinting forwards, dragging the dead bodies behind it, leaving a trail of blood smeared across the bone road.

  She pulled to the right, avoiding the main mass of monsters. An unlucky creature was caught under the horse’s hove, crushing the thing’s head into a pulp. “Hey freaks! Come get an easy meal!” She pulled around to circle the mob, the blood and guts creating a ring around the monsters. “Fresh meat here!”

  The monsters stopped ripping at the metal, their heads bobbing in the air at the scent of fresh blood. All at once, their heads shot to the woman on the horse yelling at them. Tongues licked famished lips as thoughts of filling their bellies with fresh meat of a woman and horse. A feast so yummy.

  With all their attention now, Alaz had completed the first half of her plan, now she needed to succeed in the second half. If she failed this, she would end up monster food.

  “This way! Come get it!” She kicked again, sending the horse flying down the street, dragging the bodies behind her, leaving a nice trail for the horrid creatures to follow.

  They raced on after her, leaving the black hunk of metal alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by dead monsters. The Jumped over carts and barrels and climbed the sides of buildings to catch up to the woman and feast on her flesh.

  Rigor still held a creature in his hands. He stood, grabbed its head, and yanked the spine, skull and all, from the creature’s body, tossing it to the side. He grabbed his axe and held it firmly, crushing a straggler with his foot before it could run off.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  The cursed beasts were a foul imitation of life, that mocked the very essence of living. They all deserved a quick death, but the one who birthed them should be held responsible for their sins.

  Rigor proudly gazed at Alazandrae turning down a side street, disappearing with her horse and a horde of monsters after her. He nodded. Even though she couldn’t see him, she had given him a second chance at killing the Bone Doctor and finishing his mission. He owed her a debt, but for now, it would have to be put on hold.

  He marched up the street, now unimpeded by the Bone Doctor’s monsters or henchmen. His feet clapped on the bone street, the bones bending beneath his weight. This was it, his final battle. No more hunting. It was time for him to claim his trophy.

  Fireflies darted about in the night sky, not a trouble to be had. The breeze was picking up now. Above Rigor, the Southern Star burned bright, bleeding its ill-stricken light down on the Basilica below. Its light raged on, even as clouds began to roll past in the sky, the star was ever bright.

  Rigor Mortis reached the chapel doors. He readied his axe and ripped off a broken pauldron. It clattered to the bone street below. Chainmail clinked to the floor as bits and pieces broke away. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was it. His final battle.

  He kicked the doors square in the locks and broke the hinges as it flew open, and toppled inside the chapel, kicking up a dust storm around him. Shards of broken bone burst all around him, spraying into the chapel, and chipping against the rows of pews, all empty save for the dust piled atop them.

  He took a step inward. A putrid smell assaulted his nose, burning his sinuses. Sweat, shit, puke, blood, and fear were heavy in the air. He stood amongst the pews, looking up at the altar of the chapel. Sitting atop it was a man dressed in an aged dress coat, ragged and stained, shredded pants, and a top hat. His body painted white; the paint was dry and flaky.

  “Bienvenue, mon ami. I’m glad to finally meet you.” He let a smoke cloud burst from his lungs, “This is the furthest Death has walked through my lands, but you stop here. I’m sorry you came all this way just to fail, but I’m sure Death can always send another champion.” He slid down from the alter, his skinless bone feet clapped against the floor. A wide grin spread across his face. His lips cracked as he smiled, green blood oozing down his chin.

  Chains rattled in the corner, accompanied by the cries and moans of prisoners trapped in the Bone Doctor’s realm. Women, all of them, chained together, heaped in their own excrement, whimpering for the new player in town to save them from the psychopath that has ravaged their lands.

  One woman defied the others. She sat quietly, bone white hair twirled into dreads, and several scars stretched across her face. Her skin was black as the night, and her resolve was strong in the face of defilement worse than death. Her eyes wide with surprise at the newcomer. She quickly glared at the Bone Doctor, an unquenched fire in her eyes.

  “Ah, I see you are enjoying my fine selection of breeders. Chosen from the lands surrounding here. They serve a greater purpose than you can ever know.” He strode over to them, caressing the nearest one’s face, “They serve as a vessel of my seed, the oven of creation for a God as myself, so that I might create life anew, and reign over this land as its proud and rightful ruler. Soon, I will ascend to the heavens themselves. There will be no one left to challenge me.”

  With a deep breath, the bone Doctor covered the prisoners in thick smoke, blowing it directly in the woman’s face. He turned to Rigor, “Death is long gone from this world. A maggot squirming in the dirt, while real Gods rise to meet the world around them, fighting to make a new world in their own image. Death is gone, the age of new life begins.”

  The white-haired woman glanced over to Rigor. She whispered, lowering her head in prayer, “Samdei, please smite him from the earth. Save our future from this evil.”

  Her face was met with the Bone Doctor’s hand, “Silence, hag. Don’t you ever disgrace this chapel with that heathen’s name.” He stood rigid, spat in his hand, pulled his hat off, and rubbed down his hair while he strode back to the alter. “Death tried to take me before, a hundred, maybe thousand years ago, I lose track of time within these walls. No matter. He tried, he failed, and now his champion serves as my favorite chalice.”

  Tired of the Bone Doctor’s slanderous words against Necroth, he marched on to meet the devil. Rigor gripped his axe tighter. Death would take him tonight, no matter what was to become of himself, he would kill the Bone Doctor.

  The Bone Doctor grabbed his cane, twirling it around playfully, “Now, how would you like to serve as my piss pot?”