The Coven

1099 The end of the first crusade. Mount Qasioun on the outskirts of Damascus.

A shrill high pitched screech echoed out around the walls of the dank cavern; then the sound of metal striking stone filled the air. A mailed glove pushed hard against the shoulder of what appeared to be a woman; forcing her off the blade that now protruded from her stomach. Stepping back the man, who was clad all in mail and bore the trappings of a knight, let his sword slip from the witches stomach before grasping the blade in both hands and with one fell motion cut the woman’s head from her shoulders. The knight paused for a brief moment to catch his breath and to survey the scene around him. His sword blade glistened in the flickering torch light from the sconces that were hung upon the roughly hewn walls around him; the witch’s blood dripped slowly from its shimmering surface and pooled near his feet. He could see his men at arms scattered around the cavern with some groaning in pain as they layupon the cavern floor.

It was obvious from the carnage in the cavern that a great battle had taken place here and that the men at arms had been hard pressed to win it against the foes that they had faced.

Robert Curthose, sometime Duke of Normandy, eldest son of the Conqueror stooped down and reached out his hand to a man lying covered in blood soaked robes that identified him as a holy Romancatholic priest. The priest, Peter of Amiens, stretched out his hand and grasped the knight’s outstretched mailed glove then shakily stood to his feet. Robert turned to Peter and placing his hands upon the priest’s shoulders looked him squarely in the eyes before asking.

“Do you still have it?”

Peter frantically patted his robe down as he searched for what the knight was asking for before replying.

“Yes. Here it is” Peter said as he produced a small glass vial from the pouch that hung loosely around his neck.

“In god’s name what happened here?” The priest asked as the knight began to lead him on deeper into the cavern.

“I remember hearing chanting up ahead then dark shapes all around us and then…..” his words trailed off as he felt with his hand the large swelling upon the back of his head.

“The creatures; the witches attacked us and you nearly lost your head in their first assault.” Robert replied as he thrust a flickering torch into the priest’s hand.

“You and I are the only two capable of walking and you are the only one capable of carrying out the ritual so let’s be on our way before more of these damned harpies appear” The knights words were short but full of purpose.

Peter simply nodded as his hand curled around the small silver box he carried; tentatively he made his way across the rough stone floor as he followed after the knight making sure he kept a firm grip on the silver prize within his hand.

Up ahead the smaller cavern opened up into a large cave which had been adorned with all manner of pagan symbols with candles littering the rocks and floor in front of the two men. Water slowly dripped along the wall and a slight breeze made the candles flicker from time to time. There in the middle of the room was an ornate pedestal fashioned from what appeared to be gold and decorated in rubies the colour of blood which caused the pedestal to sparkle as the light reflected off the ruby stones set within it. Both men gazed upon the pedestal as it shimmered in the flickering light that danced all around them but despite it being priceless beyond imagination it was not what caught their eyes. Sitting atop of the pedestal was a crystal; its size and shape would probably just about fit in the open palm of a man’s hand. As the men stared at the crystal before them it seemed to almost pulsate in the flickering torch light. The mesmerising sight drew both the men in closer and closer until they could see something moving inside it. It was like trying to watch a wisp of smoke dance in a glass bottle before the lid was removed and the wind carried it away.

“There it is!” Roberts hand trembled as he reached out for the crystal; his tongue moistening his dry lips as he tried hard to swallow the rising feeling of dread swelling inside him.

The knight knew what he was doing was wrong and he tried to stop himself but he was overwhelmed with the desire to possess the object before him and he felt compelled against his will to touch it.

“Don’t be a fool man!” Peter grabbed the knight’s arm as he spoke and thrust himself between the pedestal and Robert. Bringing his hand back he struck the knight a vicious blow across his face in an attempt to snap him out of the state he was in. The blow from the priest had the desired effect and feeling his senses return to him Robert immediately reached up to his face, it still stung from the blow, and took a step back.

“The legends are true; I felt myself becoming lost. If you hadn’t been here I would be playing host to that thing trapped inside there.” The knight made the sign of the cross before sliding his sword from its scabbard once more and kneeling before the priest in prayer with his eyes firmly closed shut.

With his hands still shaking; Peter placed the small silver chest upon the pedestal in front of him then turning a strange looking key the shape of a small octagon its lid popped open. Reaching up to his neck he removed the glass phial once more from the small leather pouch that hung there and placed it next to the chest; finally he took out the gilt laden holy book from beneath his robes and began to recite a passage from the chapters contained within it. As the words echoed around the cavern the priest tried not to watch the crystal before him but he could not help his eyes straying to it and almost immediately he wished he had not as the sight that he saw trapped within it made him recoil in horror; quickly averting his eyes he stared resolutely at the pages of the book before him. Folding the pages of the book onto his fingers he picked up the small phial containing holy water and carefully removed the stopper with his teeth. He could feel beads of sweat begin to roll down his face from his forehead and the enclosed cavern seemed to grow ever smaller; hastily he brushed his hand across his head wiping the sweat from his eyes. Flipping the pages of the book open once more Peter began to recite from the pages again only this time as he did so he slowly began sprinkling the holy water over the glowing crystal. As the water hit the crystal it hissed as if great heat was emanating from the pulsating rock.

Hearing the noise the knight looked up from his prayers and watched on as smoke began to rise from the object upon the pedestal filling the cavern with an acrid stench; it soon filled the room and slowly gathered above them as if it was clinging to the cavern roof with a life of its own. The cloud of darkness hung above them like the shadow of a demon waiting to fall upon them and devour them both.

With a final flourish of his hand Peter raised his voice and cried out the last words in the chapter from the holy book he was reciting the holy scripture from.

“In the name of our holy father; the spirit and god. I condemn you to stay in the prison that was wrought for you” With those final words uttered he scooped the crystal up from the table; screaming in agony as he did so. The smell of burning flesh soon filled the cave and he quickly dropped the object onto the tiny crucible that lined the inside of the silver box; swiftly he pushed down the lid with his other hand before collapsing in front of the pedestal cradling his injured hand.

Peter looked up at Robert and never took his eyes from him as he held out his hand whilst speaking through trembling lips.

“You know what you must do! Quickly before the poison spreads….” The priests voice trailed off weakly.

With one swift motion the knight brought his sword down upon the priests withered hand severing it from his arm. Peter screamed in agony as he felt the blade slice cleanly through his flesh and then he screamed even louder as Robert pressed a burning torch to his arm; the knight cauterized the wound of his friend. Falling backwards Peter passed out as Robert caught him and laid him gently onto the roughly hewn cave floor. With his friend bandaged and as comfortable as he could make him the knight closed and locked the small silver box then removed the oddly shaped key. Holding it within his hands he began to slide the three pieces that made up the octagon key apart. Removing three pendants from the leather knapsack he carried he slipped each of the pieces of the key into the carefully prepared pendants. As he pushed them into place the facet of the pendants clicked into place; he smoothed his thumb across each piece holding it up into the light as he did so to examine them carefully for one last time.

To the naked eye it was quite impossible to see the join; the hope being the pieces of the key would remain secret until such a time when the church had divined a way to sanctify it and finally destroy what was contained within the crystal. Happy with his work the knight scooped up the three pendants and wrapped them in cloth before returning them to his pouch. Picking up his sword from the ground he slid it once more back into its scabbard then knelt down beside his injured friend. Carefully hoisting the priest up upon his shoulders the knight steadily made his way back across the roughly hewn cavern floor to where his men had remained waiting for them. Stumbling across the uneven floor more than once on his way back to the scene of the battle Robert was relieved to see flickering lights up ahead and could hear the low spoken voices of his remaining men not far ahead. Laying his friend Peter upon the ground once more as gently as he could the knight reached out his hand as one of the survivors came striding over to him and grasped his hand shaking it vigorously.

“God be praised! I thought you dead when I couldn’t find you amongst the others” Sir John Claremont enthused as he greeted his friend.

“It is good to see you as well old friend. I thought you dead as well and dared not to hope otherwise but I should have known that not even these devil spawn hags could best you.” Robert clasped his friend close into him as he spoke and the men briefly embraced.

“I and three others are all that survived from the initial ambush and there are two other walking wounded here that should be able to move; the rest….” John’s voice trailed off as he shook his head and looked solemnly at the bodies of the men strewn around the cavern floor.

Both men knew what had to be done with the badly injured men at arms; they could not be cared for or carried and leaving them to linger on here would mean a slow painful death or worse if more of the creatures returned to their lair. The knights set about their grizzly task ahead of them; kneeling before their wounded comrades in arms uttering a silent benediction before plunging their daggers swiftly into the injured man’s heart. With their work complete Robert returned to the unconscious priest as John set about organising the remaining men at Arms.

“How is he?” John asked as he came over to stand next to the priest.

“He should live; I think we removed the hand in time before the poison spread and by the grace of god he will.” Robert nodded to himself as he patted Peter gently on the shoulder.

“We should get going; we dare not tarry any longer within these caves.” John cautioned his knight commander. Robert nodded and hoisted the priest up onto his shoulders once again. Tracing their way back out of the cave was not a difficult task as the way back was littered with the dead; it had been a bitter fight all the way to the heart of the coven and while stepping over their fallen comrades filled them with a sense of sadness it also brought them one step closer to the entrance of the caverns. As he led the small group ever onward John watched the torch in his hand begin to flicker and dance; then he felt a breeze on his cheek and knew they were close to the entranceway. Finally as they rounded the corner in one of the many stone work passages they could see daylight ahead. The group of men worked their way back down the intricate system of ladders that allowed access to the passage ways they had traversed moments earlier. With a rope firmly attached to the unconscious priest they lowered him down into the large cavern below where two of the men at arms waited to take hold of him. Robert stood guard at the corridor leading to the ledge as he watched each of the men at arms climb down to safety and each moment he peered down the corridor he caught his breath as he saw imagined shapes in the shadows cast by the torches hung along the wall. Finally with all his men safely in the cavern below he swiftly joined them and they were only metres from the entrance now; he could see light from the sun streaming in from the outside.

Stepping from the cavern the small party could see their horses still tethered a short distance away but the men that they had left with them were not to be seen anywhere. John quickly directed two of the men at arms to gather enough horses for them and they began to saddle up. Robert threw Peter over his horse and bound him securely to it with a lanyard made of rope before then tethering the priest’s horse to his then finally mounting up. It was midday and the sun blazed down upon the knights and their men at arms causing all the men to perspire in their heavy metal armour and making the simplest of movements seem like an effort filled task.

“Lets us be away then from this hell cursed place and away from this damned infernal land. Come John.” Robert called over to his friend Sir John Claremont who was busy finishing transferring supplies from the horses they would not need.

“Look out!” came a cry from one of the men at arms as a shrieking harpy descended from above them. It propelled itself from a ledge that it clung to just above the men and broke its fall by impaling one of the men at arms with a wicked looking curved blade as if fell upon him. Drawing his sword John slashed the creature across its body and almost cut it in two with the force from his blade. The harpy fell back letting out a high pitched wail as its guts spilled across the sandy floor; its blood soaking into the sand and disappearing in the hot sun. Suddenly more of the creatures descended from the ledges above causing panic amongst the horses and the animals fled from the ensuing battle into the plains surrounding them.

Robert drew his sword and began turning his horse around to go to his friends aid shouting orders to his men.

“Damn these things to hell; we make a stand here then!” The Dukes voice was commanding and equally inspiring to his men who drew their weapons to face the renewed onslaught of the creatures.

“No Robert! They must never get their hands upon it again! Go now! We will hold them for as long as we can.” John thrust his blade into the belly of another one of the harpies as it raked its clawed hand across his arm. Spinning and stepping to the side he pulled his blade across the creature’s stomach almost cut it in two as it fell limply to the ground its legs now twitching next to its head.

Robert knew that his friend was right; too many had died to recover the vessel and should the demon be released countless more would surely die. As he wrestled with the oaths he had taken and his loyalty to his comrades in arms he could see more of the creatures scrambling down the walls that surrounded the cavern. His face etched in anguish he kicked his heels into his horse and swung his blade in an arc sweeping the head clean off the nearest creature that tried to bar his escape. Looking back one final time he saw one of the witches appear from amongst the throng of harpies that had surrounded the remaining men at arms and his friend. Riding hard he tried to block the sounds of the dying men from his mind as he steered his horse and that of the priests onward onto the sandy plains and to safety.

Raising her hand the witch parted the ring of harpies that had surrounded the remaining men and stared at them with contempt. She looked at them each in turn deciding their value in the blink of an eye before quietly speaking to her gathered flock.

“Kill the others. Bring me the knight on his knees.” Her voice was cold and held little regard for the men’s lives.

The men fought bravely; the men fought valiantly but ultimately they fought in vain. Each of them sold their lives dearly and for each man at arms that fell his lifeless body was surrounded by at least three or four dead harpies.

A curved blade twisted into Sir Claremont’s thigh and he screamed in pain as it bit deep into his flesh ripping through his chain mail armour. Falling to his knee he thrust upwards with the sword he held in his hand and the tip drove up through the jaw and out the back of the harpies skull who had pierced his leg with the curved blade. The creature fell to the ground wrenching his sword from his hand as he lost his balance and fell to his uninjured knee. John tried to struggle back to his feet but there was nothing more he could do as clawed finger tips wrapped themselves around his arms before dragging him across the rocky ground and throwing him before the witch. He grimaced in pain as the harpies dropped him back onto his knees but he still managed to defiantly lift his head up and despite parched dry lips he used the last of the moisture in his mouth to spit at the witch cursing her at the same time.

“Go back to hell you she devil!” Sir Claremont’s words rang out through clenched teeth.

“Hell? You know nothing of the place but I promise you this little knight you will wish you were there enjoying its delights before I am done with you” The witch toyed playfully with a wickedly curved blade as she spoke before striking the knight with the heel of her boot sending him crashing to the desert floor.

“You will tell me everything about the men who escaped and where I can find them; of that I can promise you.” Finishing her sentence the witch indicated towards two of the harpies and they pulled John up onto his knees; he cried out in pain as the blade that was protruding from his thigh moved and his blood slowly pumped onto the dessert floor.

“Now sir knight you will look at me” the witch’s eyes began to swim with different colours until finally they coalesced into a deep crimson red as she spoke. Pulling his head back one of the harpies forced John to stare at the witch before him and he could feel his will beginning to sap. Clenching his eyes tight he closed his eyelids and began to recite the Lords prayer in an attempt to block out the witches chanting. With an impatient sigh the witch nodded to one of her sisters that had come to stand next to her. The witches sister slowly slid a long slender blade from beneath her robes and walked towards John; its slightly curved tip glistened in the sunlight as she raised it to his face. The knight screamed in agony as the witches sister began expertly slicing the eyelids from his face with her knife. In moments John could do nothing else but stare through a bloody haze at the witch with the blood red eyes as she sought out his soul with her penetrating gaze. Pain racked his body and his mind was drifting as he felt himself losing this battle for control of his will.

“Tell me who they are and where they are going?” The witch’s voice purred hypnotically as she spoke.

Against his will John spoke the name of his friend.

“Robert; his name is Robert.” John’s voice was distant almost not his own as he spoke the words.

The witch smiled as she spoke and leaned in close to the fallen knight caressing his cheek with her fingers.

“That is good; now who is this Robert. Tell me where is he from?” The witch motioned for the harpies to release John and as he slumped onto his knees she knelt beside him then cradled his head in her hands her words pouring into his mind like poisoned honey.

John screamed as he fought against the witches powers before finally through gritted teeth shouting.

“NO!” The knight screamed the word like a madman.

Summoning up what was left of his strength the knight, in one swift motion, pulled the curved blade from his thigh and before the witch could react brought it up between them thrusting it deep into his own heart. The knights eyes dimmed then stared fixedly ahead as his lifeless body fell to the ground; the last thing he heard was the howl of frustration from the witch before him and despite the pain he smiled a brief but satisfied smile in the final moment of his death.