The tall, rangy fi gure shifted his weight
to his back foot and moved his thin, sturdy
rapier to cover his chest. The stranger was
clad in somber black with a white shirt,
dark overcoat, heavy leather boots, and
wide-brimmed hat. His deep blue eyes
gleamed in the light from the shaft above,
steely and resolved as he watched his
prey.
In front of him, the same light glittered
off scales as large as dinner plates, shades
of yellow and green, putrid, unholy. Twin
yellow eyes glittered like gems, a cold,
malevolent light devoid of human emotion.
A long, drawn-out hiss showed the
creature’s displeasure at the wounds it
had recently received.
Kane’s rapier hand suddenly felt numb.
He spared a glance at the wound in his
leg caused by the fi end’s barbed tail. Amid
the telltale red of blood, Kane glimpsed
black ichor—poison. The cavern began to
swim, spiraling inward as Kane’s vision
blurred.
“Spawn of Satan!” Kane cursed, gritting
his teeth, summoning his indomitable
willpower to fi ght against the venom in his
blood-charged veins. “Get back into the Pit
from whence ye came.”
Kane darted forward, driven by his
fi erce force of will more than the adrenaline
coursing through his system, his
rapier arm outstretched, moving as fast
as lightning, a blur of shining steel driven
by unconscious refl ex rather than careful
thought.
The creature snapped back, its serpentine
form recoiling as the rapier point
clattered harmlessly over the scales. Kane
ducked as the massive, fanged maw of the
beast lunged, missing him by a whisker.
Kane’s rapier fl ashed left, nimbly blocking
the barbed tail which had shot out
of the shadows. Then he thrust forward
again, angling upward beneath the scales.
Kane felt the warm liquid fl ow over his
hand but spared it no thought—fl esh and
blood the fi end was, but it was no ordinary
beast, and the wound was as a fl ea
bite to an elephant.
The creature attacked again, mouth and
tail working in unison. Kane turned his
body, parrying the barb and avoiding the
fangs. The massive, fl attened head struck
his shoulder, forcing the Puritan to one
knee.
“I grow weary of this game,” Kane said
without emotion. “I have a greater evil to
judge.”
Kane’s other hand moved to his belt
and drew out a heavy fl intlock pistol. The
wanderer raised the gun in an instant,
bringing it level as the beast snapped its
jaws closed, swallowing Kane’s arm to the
shoulder.
For a second that seemed as timeless
as the cavern in which they fought, man
and monster stared into each other’s eyes.
Were there any witnesses to the battle they
would have found it hard to tell which
was man and which was monster, for both
exuded power beyond that of mortal reckoning
in their cold, unblinking eyes.
Kane made no movement, yet the beast
sensed a hidden danger. It tried to recoil,
opening its mouth a fraction of an inch
to release its deadly prize. Kane heard
no explosion as he pulled the trigger, but
felt the slight sting of powder burns in the
enclosed space of the creature’s jagged
maw.
Eyes glazed, then the gigantic serpent
slumped. Kane pulled his hand free, and
immediately dropped the spent pistol.
Out of the shadows hurtled a fi gure, his
dark cloak glittering like the reptile Kane
had just killed, a dagger curved like an
enormous fang in his hand. “You will pay
for that, Puritan,” the fi gure hissed, slashing
wildly as his eyes glowed red with
madness.
“I gave you fair warning, sorcerer!”
Kane replied, parrying the dagger in a
series of calculated maneuvers. “You have
traffi cked with the forces of Hell, and for
that you must pay the ultimate price.”
The sorcerer slashed wildly, his moves
clumsy to Kane’s eyes. But what he lacked
in skill he gained in unholy zeal. Though
Kane blocked every attack, he found himself
retreating out of the circle of dim light
fi ltering down from the cavern’s roof.
Regaining the initiative, Kane thrust his
rapier forward. The point struck close to
the magician’s dark heart. Kane stepped
backward, expecting the sorcerer to fall.
A glint of light fl ashed and the Puritan
instinctively sidestepped. A glance at the
sorcerer’s robe revealed no sign of a cut.
Kane’s eyes widened. “Fell sorcery!” he
hissed. “What devils you summoned to
protect you shall not prevail this day!”
The rapier slashed forward, clashing
against steel. Blade locked on blade, eye
locked on eye as both men threw their
weight forward. Like two mountains they
remained steadfast, neither giving an
inch.
The eyes of the serpent were windows
into its dark, inhuman soul. The eyes of the
sorcerer were windows into madness all
too human. Kane had seen such insanity
before and he knew what must be done.
But it was the sorcerer who proved
stronger. Drawing on his dark power, he
shoved forward suddenly, causing Kane to
shift weight to his back foot, his balance
now off center. The knife slashed again, a
crescent moon piercing the failing light.
The blade stroked the Puritan’s skin like
a deadly lover, drawing a thin trail of
blood.
Kane leapt back into the shadows. The
sorcerer followed. Traffi cking with demons
was his fi rst mistake. Following Kane was
to be his last.
Kane thrust his rapier forward, a feint
to conceal his true move. As the sorcerer
moved to parry, he exposed his left fl ank.
Kane lowered his shoulder and charged,
knocking the fell magician backward. The
sorcerer stopped suddenly, motionless,
arms outstretched. Kane lowered his eyes.
The barb of the serpent protruded from the
man’s stomach, a mortal wound.
“Mercy,” the sorcerer whispered, his
hands clutching at thin air like a deranged
puppet. “Spare me!”
“Nay,” replied the Puritan. “When you
summoned this fi end to do your evil bidding,
you chose your Fate. I shall end your
life quickly, but only so the Creator may
pass His eternal judgment on you the
sooner.” Kane’s rapier fl icked once and the
light left the sorcerer’s eyes.
“Thank you, my friend,” he called into the
shadows of the cavern. “Once again your
magic has saved me.” Kane did not profess
to understand the ways of ju-ju magic, but
instinctively knew his old friend, N’Longa,
had somehow used his powers to slow the
serpent’s venom.
“N’Longa happy to help,” the old shaman
smiled, stepping into the light. “You kill
snake good, but there many more dangers
coming. Bad times move closer. Shadows
and scales the future holds.”
Kane’s head slumped to his chest as
he reloaded his pistol. “So much evil,” he
muttered. “My bones grow older, N’Longa.
The road becomes harder to walk.”
N’Longa laughed loudly, his outburst
echoing like thunder. “You not old, blood
brother! N’Longa many years older than
you!”
N’Longa waited until the echoes died
down. ”But you right,” he added. “Too
much darkness for one man. Fear not, I
summon others to fi ght the darkness. Soon
they walk path too. Soon they follow the
Path of Kane.”