A Glimpse Beyond the Mists

Solomon Kane barely took notice of the javelin that sped close enough to crease his cheek and bring a spray of blood. He occupied himself with the decapitation of the first hapless guard who foolishly placed himself within reach of the deadly rapier. The blade was eager to the task and hummed its killing song whilst it danced and flashed in the hand of its expert master. The blade ripped open a stomach, the entrails had scarcely spilled upon the floor before another clumsy soldier's skull was cleft to the nostrils.

A fourth guard wisely exercised a bit of caution but waited to long while searching for an opening. The pistol shot met him squarely between the eyes, the heavy ball exited the rear of his cranium, pushing bone, blood, and brain tissue before it. He fell and Kane deftly caught up the dead man's javelin. With the left hand he hurled the heavy missile with enough power and accuracy to impale a man that had sought to maneuver himself into a position behind the seemingly mad Englishman. The lot of these red events occurred within the span of a few seconds. The floor had become slick with blood and gore, giving an advantage to Kane...for he had he not fought many battles upon the slippery decks of English privateers?

When his initial rush of hate and blood thirst abated to a degree, Kane's head cleared enough that he wisely sought a means of making good his escape. In the face of impossible odds there was little else he could do. Several more soldiers had entered the dining quarters but foolishly only a single man positioned between the berserk puritan and the door. The puritan did not allow this brief opening to go neglected. Kane lashed out at the man nearest him, slashing a deep crimson gash across the screaming soldier's face. The badly wounded man flung himself backwards and rolled in pain, effectively blocking several of his comrades. At this precise instant the gaunt swordsman rushed the door, simultaneously discharging a pistol into the body of the javelin wielding man that blocked the way. The dying soldier hadn't even the time to grasp the meaning of the blood spurting from his chest before the avenging puritan had snatched away his javelin and vanished lightening-like through the doorway.

During the battle Neerininshia had disappeared but Solomon Kane took scant notice. His quick wits and panther-like athletic form were entirely employed with making a hasty retreat from what he viewed as an cannibalistic, underground version of hell.

The fleeing black clad figure hastened with remarkable speed down long corridors and through an array of orb lit chambers that consisted of many sizes and uses. He knocked aside or ran over clay pottery, wicker furniture, exquisitely carved miniature stone idols, and a variety of startled cavern dwellers. They glared with astonishment at the blood smeared face of the swordsman...and his crimson dripping blade. One impetuous man flashed the puritan an angry frown and waved a knife. Kane didn't bother to ascertain the intentions of the man before simply killing him. The entire encounter lasted less than three seconds. The Redresser of Wrongs was in no mood for any display of admonishment by these underground fiends. Still, the bulk of his efforts were directed towards making his way out of the palace and escaping as rapidly and by any means available.

Solomon Kane was a stranger to this place but his memory was keen as the edge on his blades. He recognized many landmarks that before he'd wisely taken note of during his long walk with Neerininshia. He hoped that, with a minimum of assistance from a greater force, he could win through to freedom, wherever beyond the palace grounds that might exist...if indeed it did exist. But now he had no time to wrestle with uncertainties for seemingly everywhere a general uproar had commenced with shouts of confusion or alarm at virtually every turn. He encountered a squad of soldiers who merely stepped aside and let him pass. They assumed he was not a foe for had he not walked beside their queen in friendship little more than an hour before, and saved her from a Cuarchi assassin? This knowledge gave cause for a hastily conceived plan to form in the clever brain of the desperate but eerily cool headed Solomon Kane.

The Englishman rushed to navigate a few more twists and turns and in less than three minutes he had worked his way back to the area where the large blue pavilion bordering the palace grounds was located. As far as he knew this was the only possible way out of the palace, however this knowledge was tempered greatly by the realization that dozens of elite soldiers stood vigilant watch over the entire grounds.

Kane slowed to a quick walk and sheathed his sword before stepping out onto the pavilion. There he halted as soon as the guards took notice of him. "Neerininshia, Neerininshia," he shouted as loudly and urgently as he could with his deep booming voice. These words he followed with the only other term he knew of the cavern dweller's strange tongue. "Cuarchi, Cuarchi!"

The puritan repeated the two phrases and motioned frantically with his hand in the direction from whence he'd appeared. Kane was not a gambler but he'd just wagered his very life that most, if not all, of the pavilion guards had heard of the recent assassination attempt on their beautiful queen by the much despised Cuarchi devils.

The puritan was much relieved to see that his phony warning had produced the desired affect on the surprised soldiers. Despite the loud protests of the officer in charge the enraged troops stormed towards the palace, very nearly running over the grim Englishman, such was their eagerness to defend their beloved queen. The officer was much more steadfast and suspicious than were his courageous but youthful underlings. He saw through the ruse and came at Kane with his long knife in hand. The puritan increased his grip on the stolen javelin he yet carried. Without hesitation he ran the officer through. The fallen man's blood spilled onto the blue stones, creating a sharp contrast in colors. Solomon Kane did not wait to admire his own handiwork but jerked the javelin free. Already he thought he heard some of the guards returning. The entire palace was in a state of highest alarm and the puritan avenger knew confusion and deception would not make for an ally much longer.

He raced to the edge of the pavilion. There Kane threw down the bloody javelin and snatched one of the smaller green orbs which he tucked under his left arm. Wherever he fled to in this cavern hell something to light the way would prove an invaluable asset. Solomon Kane leapt over the high wall and landed cat-like on his feet before speeding across a smallish stream. Mud sucked at Kane's boots but he managed to cross with reasonable ease. Then the puritan took the only direction available to him, one that led towards a tall cliff structure riddled with the uninviting maws of many shadowy caves. There appeared to be literally dozens of these dank passageways but where any of them led the Englishman had not the slightest indication. He did have faith however, and that faith gave him hope, hope in himself and divine intervention. "It all be in the hands of Him now," the puritan said with more than a little confidence.

Already he could see Neerininshia's troops frantically dropping long ladders over the sides of the pavilion wall. The Englishman could choose to make a last stand there in the open or pick a cave and flee towards some completely unknown destination...if not a dead end. The narrow confines of the underground tunnels would make it impossible for the cannibals to come at him with greater numbers than two or three at a time. This was more than enough reason, along with his unshakable faith, to make his choice an easy one. He darted through one of the ominous openings, holding the green orb before him with extended arm.

With the aid of the light the puritan was able to move quickly through the narrow tunnel. At certain places the way turned sharply to the left or right and even occasionally split in twain. Kane hoped the twisting and turning would perhaps slow the pursuit of the searching cannibals but already he could hear their shouts seemingly drawing closer. He was sobered by the grim realization that Neerininshia's people likely knew every inch of this murky, blackened maze. Certainly they had a familiarity far beyond that of the swordsman.

Unexpectedly the puritan suddenly burst into a rather sizable area. The ceiling was low but the puritan could just stand erect. Within this odd room he noticed a small knot of perhaps a half-dozen of the sub-human Cuarchi. These creatures huddled together by the scant light provided by a tiny version of the green orbs. They were as surprised to see the strapping Englishman as he was to encounter them. Wide-eyed, the two parties regarded each other in a kind of stunned silence until the quiet was shattered by the excited shouts of the pursuing soldiers. The puritan saw only one exit from the cavern other than the one from whence he'd entered. He made in that direction but stopped when the Cuarchi pushed aside a small boulder, revealing another rather small escape route down near the ground. The sub-humans rapidly slithered through this minute orifice. Kane was considerably larger than the Cuarchi but something instinctively urged him to try and follow the filthy wretches. Kane how long since learned to rely on these odd premonitions and few were the times they had failed him. Besides that, if there existed a means of evading Neerininshia's men it made sense that the Cuarchi would know of it.

Solomon Kane followed the poor devils and soon regretted the decision. Thanks to the orb he carried, the light was more than adequate but for one so large as the grim avenger the route was terribly claustrophobic. He struggled along, crawling the entire way on his stomach, pressing as close to the ground as possible. His broad shoulders literally scraped against the sides of the confining tunnel to the point they were scraped raw and bleeding. The sleeves of his new shirt were ripped to shreds but he cared not. He pushed the rapier, his pistols, and the glowing orb ahead, straining and sweating the entire way. His back and neck ached from the awkward positions he was forced into as he inched painfully and slowly onward, hoping for the best and dreading the worst.

Finally, to his great relief, he entered a long corridor where he could at last stand erect. His throbbing muscles greatly welcomed this development. The orb revealed that a great number of the tiny caves fed into this larger tunnel, but Kane certainly had no use for these wretched entrapments. Come what may he was determined to follow wherever his present path led him. If he had to die, he preferred doing so whilst standing like a man and not crawling on his stomach like a common mole. He paused for a moment to catch his breath. There were two directions available to Kane and as far as he could tell, the one was as good as the other. Again, he trusted to his instincts.

The puritan made his choice and hurried on his way quickly and easily, walking with his usual long purposeful strides. He did not run, and would not. He had long since lost his joy for this grand chase. Solomon Kane was a proud man and not a hare to be run to ground in the name of fool's sport. Grimly, the puritan had determined to stand and fight and he knew that there was likely to be no end to this fateful game other than death. Besides, he was completely lost so what was the point of haste? Why should one hurry when he was going nowhere save to what promised to be a violent demise? Kane wanted to live but he saw no purpose in fearing death.

Thus Solomon Kane proceeded into the dark unknown, long deadly blade and brightly glowing orb in hand. He paused once to hastily reload his heavy pistols. This served, if no other purpose, to take his mind off the hopelessness of the situation. Additionally he took a measure of satisfaction in knowing that, with any luck, he could use the weapons to ease two of the cannibals from this life and on to enjoy the eternal inferno of Satan's own lake of fire. No doubt, the grim puritan reckoned, old Lucifer would welcome two of his own demons come home.

Kane strolled swiftly down what turned out to be an especially long corridor. His heart suddenly pounded with a pronounced thump when he unexpectedly heard yet again the very audible crashing of the thunderstorm that raged above. The sound was astonishingly loud and seemed very close. The puritan quickened his pace in anticipation even as fresh hope filled a place in his being where it had so recently been nearly emptied. Then the gaunt Englishman's steely eyes flew open wide when a flash of lightening dimly illuminated the cavern for a brief fleeting moment. It appeared increasingly possible that indeed a way out of this black underground hell might be within reach! Dared he believe this good fortune?

Greatly encouraged, the Englishman was in the very process of saying a hearty prayer of thanks when he emerged out of the darkness into a large triangular shaped area. Here fresh clean air greeted the puritan. Above his head an opening presented itself that revealed a swirling mass of angry skies, but unfortunately it loomed well over twenty feet beyond the puritan's reach. And it appeared there were no visible means of ascent thereto. Solomon Kane's stout heart sank to a depth of darkness blacker than that of any cavern. He became angry. His grimy, dirty, and blood smeared features took on a truly frightening aspect. This was no escape route at all, rather it was the very pit into which had fallen those many hours before, thus plunging him into this waking nightmare! Red rage swelled within the puritan's great breast.

The bodies of the Cuarchi that Kane had slain still lay where they'd fallen. No efforts had been made to retrieve the dead. The frustrated puritan, realizing he was trapped yet again, was left with no alternative but to re-enter the long tunnel from whence he'd only just emerged scant moments before. However, his swift stride paused in mid step when the sound of shouting soldiers assailed the Englishman's ears. They had already reached the corridor and were hastily coming his way. The puritan felt something chilling run down his spine. Now there was no place else for him to run. This brief sensation was quickly chased away by a slow building, but seething kind of madness.

"This dark hellish place is as good as any other when it comes to dying," Solomon Kane declared to none but himself. He retreated to the entrance of the pit and placed the little green orb down beside his feet. He would fight, and likely meet his death here. The darkened corridor was so narrow that no more than three could get at him at once. This would be much better than fighting in the open as he had when the pathetic Cuarchi had finally defeated him with sheer weight of numbers. It was decided then, and he would make his enemies pay dearly for his hot saxon blood.

Kane checked his pistols again as a heavy rain began to fall into the forlorn chasm at his back. He reckoned that his firearms would function just fine thanks to the dryness provided by the underground passage where he stood. Even more reason to make this the place he'd make his final play. Also there was just enough room to work the rapier. That thought gave him no small measure of comfort. The rapier felt good in his hand, a better battle companion for a man could not be found.

The puritan steeled himself for one last battle. He uttered a hasty prayer before turning all his thoughts to ridding the earth, or at least the bowels of the earth, of as many foul eaters of human flesh as possible.

It had become difficult to judge precisely the nearness of the approaching host. The thunder crashed with an increasingly angry fury. It drowned out all sound save that of restless nature. However, in time the rapidly approaching glow of green light provided all the indication that the puritan needed. The foe was at hand and almost certainly brought death with him. Kane was not afraid and not giving ground. Earthly warriors or the cold hand or death. He would face either and give more than he took. This oath he took to his own heart and it mattered not if none other were privy.

Two advancing scouts of Neerininshia's army were the first to at last lay eyes on Kane. They screamed the welcome news back to their comrades before making a mad dash straight for the dark clad who simply waited most calmly. The gaunt puritan's eyes were hard slits but his expression seemed naught but a serene mask. The faces of the soldiers were distorted by hate and bloodthirsty fury. Whilst Kane's demeanor was that of a man uncommonly relaxed, behind his cold, deep set eyes was an immeasurable icy determination. Those same eyes had, on many occasions in the past, given brave men cause to doubt themselves. The rushing warriors saw nothing in the dimness of the cave save a man who had insulted their queen...the perfect Goddess Neerininshia.

Displaying amazing agility Kane stepped aside and allowed a javelin to fly past. Then both of the enemy fell on him with their long knives poised to strike. Their reckless charge proved to be folly. The Englishman coolly impaled one man even as he twisted the blood soaked body into a position that served to block the other soldier. Kane lashed out with a heavy boot and kicked the dead man off the red dripping rapier. The remaining warrior avoided the quivering corpse of his comrade only to endure the full fury of the gaunt swordsman's vicious counter-attack. The rapier ripped across the startled foe's dusky chest, bringing forth a virtual flood of gushing blood. Within the span of a split second another thrust penetrated the right eye of the hapless soldier. The man gasped and dropped his weapon before joining his companion in an eternal state of deepest slumber. To late he realized his passion for blood had been met by one possessed by an even greater thirst for slaying...Solomon Kane!