The (Solo) Adventures of Solomon Kane

Kane rises, hands held out before him in surrender and lets the landlord babble his insane tale while he searches for an opening.

“Why should I spare any man?  Who lifted a hand to my aid when I lay in the village dungeons of Karlsruhe – and for a deed never proven?”

Kane made no answer. He knew of the worst excesses of those prisons far away.

“But I escaped!” the scream rose triumphantly, “and here I make war on all men … What has that?”

Did Kane see a flash of fear in those hideous eyes?

“Something happened to my brain, then.  I became as a wolf – a brother to these of the Black Forest to which I fled when I escaped.  They have feasted, my brothers, on all who lay in my tavern – all except this one who now clashes his bones, this magician from Russia.  Lest he come stalking back through the black shadows when night is over the world, and slay me – for who may slay the dead?”

“Who is this magician of whom you speak?” asked Kane quietly, hoping to encourage the landlord to continue his tale while the Englishman looked for a way to escape this trap.

“A sorcerer, unlucky enough to underestimate me. Dying he swore his very bones would weave a net of death for me. I shackled his corpse to the floor and now, deep in the night, I hear his bare skeleton clash and rattle as he seeks to be free, and I laugh! Ho ho! How he yeans to rise and stalk like old King Death alone these dark corridors when I sleep, to slay me in my bed!”

Kane’s mind thinks back to the secret room and the strong blow that L’Armon struck to shatter the chains binding the skeleton down.  What has he unsuspectingly released, he pondered.

Once again the landlord speaks up, “You were in that secret room, you and this dead fool!  Did he talk to you?” he asked while he kicks Solomon brutally to the side.

Kane stumbles backwards and slightly away from the landlord. He can feel the darkness closing in, but digs deep into his psyche to steel himself for the next few moments.  Everything could depend on keeping the man talking until some lucky opportunity arises.

Kane counts his blessings as he succeeds in keeping the irate tavern-keeper talking, as the bone rattling coming from the dark room intensifies.

The host’s insane eyes flame dangerously as he suspects Kane of some imagined treachery.  The Englishman continues to circle the room staying out of reach of the clever or knife while attempting to maintain some kind of conversation with this irrational man.

All is darkness in the secret room and Kane realises his end may be close. One desperate leap at the man seems to be the final choice, one leap of faith.

“Move not, Englishman!” screams the Landlord, “Your bones I shall leave in this secret room besides this one, to …”