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“The pain will pass my friend. Just hold on a little longer and we will be free from these cursed catacombs.” Loch’nar spoke to his friend as he half carried him through a winding passageway. “Lochy, I fear my time draws near, I can feel the Void calling me. Leave me here, you may yet escape my fate.” Said the wounded man leaning on Loch’nar.

“Nah Maranoc, I shall not leave you while you live. We will both be free of this Hell or we shall both die here, beneath the earth.”

Maranoc smiled, his handsome features pinched and paled, even in the meager light that seemed to come from the very earth around them.

Suddenly Maranoc stumbled and would have collapsed had Loch’nar not slung his wounded friend across his shoulder. The stocky, powerful Loch’nar would have easily been able to carry his friend for miles at a slow run above ground but being so far below ground, without food for days and carrying his own share of wounds the effort of carrying his companion was almost more then he could bare.

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He grunted as his shoulder grazed the rough rock of the passage wall.

“Leave me Lochy,” came a strained whisper in Loch’nar’s ear. “You have been a dear friend, and I shall not begrudge you for letting me go, but I fear if you do not, we shall be overtaken and both be killed, and I do not wish that upon you, good friend.”

Loch’nar said nothing; the truth of his friend’s words had scared him to silence. The sound of water cam from ahead and Loch’nar found new strength and began to run towards the sound.

He felt something warm and sticky drip down the side of his ragged face and he realized it was his friend’s blood.

“Leave me by the water, it will be a fitting gravesite.” Maranoc’s lean body was suddenly racked by a fit of gasping coughs, and his friend knew Maranoc’s time was short.

“Don’t talk like that, Maran,” Loch’nar said desperately to his friend, “We are getting out of here together, and you with see Shiana, and little Maeg again. Don’t you worry about a thing, I will see you safely home.”

The memory of his wife and daughter brought tears to Maranoc’s eyes, he knew he would never see them again, but the hope inspired by his friend was almost enough to make him believe that he would.

The duo arrived at the underground lake and Loch’nar lowered his friend to the sandy shores.

Loch’nar removed his dented and scarred helm, and dipped it in the cool dark water. Moving over his wounded friend he held the water to his lips and noticed with a lump in his throat that most of the water was spilling down Maranoc’s tunic rather then going down his throat.

He wiped the sweat from his friend’s forehead, then dipped his helm in the water again and, raising it to his own lips, drank deeply.

A whistling sound and his helm was knocked from his hand. Blood trickled from the shallow graze on his hand, and Loch’nar swiftly drew his double-headed axe and several figures carrying swords and bows materialized from the darkness. The seven warriors where dressed in grey, the colour of the walls, almost blending in with them if one didn’t keep his eyes on them they could almost disappear. “Nowhere left to run human, your trail ends here.”

Loch’nar grinned, his eyes gleaming insanely in the low light. “Oh really you filthy bastards? Then I’m taking all of you with me on the Swan’s Path.” And with that the hulking man lunged forward, his gleaming axe swinging in a vicious arch to cut cleanly through the first attacker’s neck, the grey skinned head flopping to the ground with a wet thud. The axe reversed and tore a gaping wound in the second assassin’s chest, a dull crimson spray follow the axe on exit.

A sword pierced his chest and he staggered back, the flat of his axe responding, almost with a mind of it’s own as it smashed into the attacker’s face, crushing it to a bloody pulp and hurling the man from his feet. An arrow slammed into his shoulder almost spinning him from his feet and a curved sword tore through his back and exploded from his chest, but still the huge man kept his feet. Maranoc wept as his life long friend stood defiantly, bloodied and dying, defending his friend with his life. He longed to stand beside him but all energy had left his limbs and he could barely keep his eyes open let alone stand. A grey-cloaked body flew through the air to crash to the ground next to him and he smiled grimly as his friend’s words floated into his mind. He had said he would kill them all and he had almost done that. An arrow flashed from the shadows and sunk into Loch’nar’s back and he roared in pain and anger as he cut down yet another dark clad warrior before sinking to his knees, bleeding from a dozen mortal wounds.

With all his might Maranoc drew his hand crossbow, leveled it and fired a bolt into the shadowy archer, with a scream the archer slammed into the wall and fell face first to the ground. Then all was silent except for Loch’nar’s ragged, gurgling breathes. He crawled to his friend and Maranoc saw the joy in his eyes. “I killed them, Maran, every one of the rat eating bastards! They did a number on me though didn’t they?” Loch’nar’s giant body racked violently as he hacked and coughed, blood bubbling in his throat and frothing at his lips. “Think they’ll think twice before sending so few against me again Maran… I got them all…”

Maranoc said nothing as his friend struggled to rise. The lump in his throat was to great and he choked back tears as Loch’nar slid to lay face down next to him.

“You have to get out, my friend. The gift I give to you now is life…my journey ends here but your still has a long way to go. There as still more of those…those monsters out there you have to train more…to…to fight them, you and I were the best but we need more. You have to live…you…you have to…to…” Loch’nar’s body shuddered and then lay still. And Maranoc screamed his anguish to the cold stonewalls of the cavern.

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