Steven knew from the edge in the guard's voice there was going to be no way into the palace without confrontation. Everyday more and more people died from the plague as it continued to spread through the streets of the city like wildfire. By chance, he had discovered its cause and one way or another he was going to see the king this day.

When Steven didn't back away from the palace gates the lead guard stepped forward to shove him back into the streets as the other three guards watched cautiously. They were all heavily armed. Each wore a suit of thick chain-mail and carried a long sword in the scabbards dangling from their belts.

Steven caught the guard that was reaching for him by the arm and spun, snapping the bone inside the guard's arm before ramming an elbow deep into the guard's stomach. Steven whirled back to face the other three even as the first fell, gasping for air and in pain, to the cobble stones. He ducked on the closest of the three guard's opening swing and swept the guard's feet from out beneath him. Chain-mail clattered as the guard struck the ground. Steven caught the second guard's blade in his bare hand in mid-swing. The blade bit his flesh but he ignored it and the blood dripping down his arm, thrusting out with the open palm of his free hand to shatter the guard's nose. He followed up with a series of three fast, palm edged strikes to the man's throat. The remaining guard still on his feet was yelling for help and a dozen more soldiers of the king's army were rushing from inside the courtyard to the gates.

Steven tore the sword out of the last guard's grasp shoving him aside. He moved to a position close to the inner wall narrowing his foes' field of attack and stood with the stolen sword poised to strike, held high in both hands by his side. "I must see the king!" he cried at the top of his lungs at the approaching soldiers and the guards who were able enough to be getting back to their feet.

The king's men enclosed around him forming a half-circle and trapping him in his spot against the wall. Their expressions showed a mixture of confusion, anger, and perhaps even a little fear as they stared at the young man dressed in the rags of a peasant who just overcame four of their number. One among them who wore the finer mail of a captain glared at Steven coldly, looking him over.

"Young man, you've just attempted to break into the king's home and injured several of his guard. Surely, you know these are crimes punishable by death."

Steven held his sword firm meeting the captain's eyes. "I must see the king," he said again. "I know the cause of the plague within our streets. I have seen it with my own eyes. Please, I beg you, take me to him and I will gladly answer for what I have done after he hears my words."

Without the slightest change in his grim expression, the captain looked Steven over once more and nodded. He motioned for the rest of the men to lower their weapons and said, "Follow me boy. I'll take you to the king but remember what you've started this day is far from over."

The captain and two of the largest soldiers led Steven across the courtyard and into the palace through the back entrance. A short slim gentleman with flowing long hair and greenish skin met them as they entered. Steven recognized him as Slythe, the king's personal bodyguard.

Slythe flashed a smile of yellow teeth at Steven dismissing the captain and his men with a wave of his hand. When they departed he spoke. "I sssaw what you did out there boy. Tellss me where a peasant learned the waysss of my people."

"I am Steven Chelswin of the house of Chelswin. My family was once a part of the king's court. Noble blood flows in my veins and I serve the king still."

Slythe blinked, "Ah yes, Chelswin. I thought I had killed all of your house. I sssee I wassss mistaken."

"Will you kill me now, Lord Slythe?" Steven asked without a trace of fear in his voice.

"No," the snake-man answered. "Your family's crimes are of the past and I think your house hassss ssshed enough blood. The king will decide your fate, child of the betrayer." Slythe's fingers drummed on the hilt of the oddly curved blade which hung in the scabbard upon his side then he blinked again. "Come boy; let us hear what you have to say that was worth dying for." Slythe turned and took Steven deeper down the winding hallway towards the king's chambers.

The king awaited them sitting comfortably behind an elaborate, finely made desk. The old man's face showed clearly the signs of fatigue and worry. He glanced up at Steven. "Well speak boy. I have too much to do to waste my time waiting on you to choose your words."

Steven bowed sinking to his knees. "Your majesty, I know the cause of the plague which slays the people of our city." Rising his head to meet the king's gaze as if to reinforce his words he continued, "There is a Yagsdill among our people your grace."

The king's laughter echoed in the room, the sound of his voice booming as he slammed a fist down on the top of his work table. "A peasant," he said at last, "A peasant and the son of a traitor brings me the news it has taken you weeks to discover Lord Slythe."

Slythe hissed but said nothing.

"Had you been a day earlier lad, your news would have been truly shocking, I admit. Tell me last son of the house of Chelswin, how did you discover the Yagsdill?"

"I saw it, sire, feeding upon a man outside the inn that I was staying last night."

"And yet, you're alive and here to tell the tale. How?"

"The boy is of the Hex, my king," Lord Slythe interrupted, "I know not how he learned the ancient waysss of the discipline as I thought myself to be the last living master of its waysss. But sssomehow, sssomeone trained by my people must have passed the knowledge onto him. Perhapsss the master of armsss of hisss housse when he was younger before his house broke away from the throne."

"Interesting indeed." The king got up from his chair. "Boy did you bring me this knowledge of the Yagsdill to atone for the crimes of your father and become an outcast no more?"

"No, my lord, I came because people are dying in our streets. I'd like to think that even my father would have done the same despite his hatred of you."

"Banenach, the court wizard, and Lord Slythe have a plan to lure the Yagsdill out and stop it. Their plan is not perfect as it is but you my boy have made it thus."

"How?" Steven asked.

"They need bait, lad. A bait which can survive the Yagsdill long enough to lead it to them. You have attacked my guards and your house owes the throne a blood debt still. Your life is forfeit but if you help rid us of the monster in our streets, I shall spare you and cleanse the name of your house that you may be free again. I can grant you no more than this."

"Then their bait, I shall be my lord. I live only to serve the crown."

As Slythe accompanied Steven out of the chamber he said, "You handled that well. Most would've ended up with their head on a stake in your place."

Steven accepted the compliment. "So," he asked Slythe, "When do we get started?"

Slythe silted pupils grew large with excitement as he replied, "Tonight, boy. Tonight."

The plan was simple. Steven would walk the streets of the city alone, smelling of fresh blood and ale as if he'd just staggered away from a bar brawl looking weak and battered yet healthy and free of disease. To add to the Yagsdill's enticement, Banenach would cast a powerful luring charm upon him. The Yagsdill would be drawn to him to feed upon his spirit with its withering touch which left its spores behind in the flesh of its victim and spread among those who found the body making them mortally ill and easily traceable prey for the next night should it not be able to find fresher prey. Of course, Steven had no intention of letting the Yagsdill touch him much less hold him long enough to begin draining away his soul and thus infect his body with its spores. He would confront the creature and drive it to anger, leading it to the ruins of the temple of Hexus left over from the days when the snake-men like Slythe ruled this land. There Banenach would summon a portal, opening into Hell itself, and they would force the monster through it. The plan was simple but full of danger to all three of them who would be involved. Yagsdill were not easy prey.

Steven was ready to give up after having spent the last four hours wandering the streets of the city in vain. The Yagsdill had not shown itself nor was there any sign of its presence. Dawn was not too far away now and if the Yagsdill did not show itself soon all would be lost. It would take Banenach another month to prepare the portal spell again through many long rituals and sacrifices. Half the city or more could fall to the beast and its plague during that time.

Steven rounded a corner in the street heading down the darkest alley he could find. He made show of stumbling in his steps. His hand rested on the hilt of the enchanted rapier Banenach had made and Lord Slythe had given him. The blade could not slay the Yagsdill but unlike normal weapons it could cause the beast pain. Steven longed to free the blade from its scabbard but dared not care it openly and ready in his hand.

Without warning, a hand twice the size of that of a man's shot out of the darkness grasping for Steven's face. He yelped and tumbled backwards loosing his footing as he narrowly avoided the long, talon-like fingers which slashed through the air before him. The thing stood above him, nine feet of rotting flesh under tattered black robes. Its eyes burnt with orange rage and it had no mouth upon its face. Instead, the centers of its palms were open like wounds filled with rows of tiny, gleaming teeth. He half rolled, half flipped to his feet away from the creature. His rapier swooshed as it cleared his scabbard and slashed out at the boney hand already reaching for him once more. The blade cut away a hunk of gray skin and chipped the thing's exposed bone. Even though it had no mouth, its cry seemed to shake the very ground on which Steven stood. He ran then without looking back. He darted out of the alley, sprinting for the church of Hexus. Only when he realized there was no sound of the thing pursuing him did he dare a glance over his shoulder straight into the monster's glowing eyes. He felt its putrid breath flowing from its palms in the second before they clasped onto his cheeks and lifted him effortlessly into the air where the thing floated. Steven screamed as his body felt as if it was turning to ice. Then suddenly, Slythe was there. The curved blade of the snake-man's sword severed the Yagsdill hands at the wrist.

Steven toppled to the cobble stones but Slythe jerked him to his feet. "Run, boy!" he spat as a fine mist sprayed from the monster's wounds on its wrists and began to coalesce into new hands atop them.

The Yagsdill lunged at Steven wanting more of the sweet taste of his soul but Slythe was between the beast and its prey. It ripped the snake-man in half like a child would a doll it had grown tired of playing with and wanted no more. Steven heard the wet sounds of Slythe's entrails splattering across the street behind him but he was already running again determined not to let Slythe's efforts be in vain.

Banenach stood in the doorway of the church of Hexus urging him inside as he approached. "Slythe is dead!" Steven warned the wizard as he leapt past the wizard into the building to land beside one of its large stain glass windows.

The Yagsdill flew towards them, its voice howling inside their very minds with fury. Banenach was muttering words in some long dead language that Steven could not understand as the Yagsdill flew through the doorway and several things happened at once. The entrance cracked with bright energy lighting the night as the portal opened within the frame of the doorway and sucked the monster back to the flaming depths which had gave it birth. Banenach burst into flames himself screaming as his wrinkled flesh melted from his body caught in the backlash of his own spell and then everything seem to explode around Steven. The force of the released magics hurled him through the church's window out into the street, shattering glass clinking down all around him like rain before the whole building caved in on itself.

When Steven woke up, he found himself in a cushioned bed. On the table next to it sat food and pitcher of wine. Both his rapier and Slythe's blade rested against the table. The king sat across the room from him as if he had been watching Steven and waiting on the boy to come to. He smiled at the young man as Steven began to speak but cut off the lad's words saying, "You did well, Steven Chelswin. All is forgiven this day and you are free to go. The swords are yours now. Use them well." With that said the king got out and walked out of the room leaving Steven staring after him. The Yagsdill was gone and the plague was over but as Steven looked at the blades near his bedside and the king's words replayed in his head, he couldn't help but feel that his own life was just beginning.

© Eric S. Brown