BlackThorn's Doom (13 page)
“Ash’Kelon,” The shadowy form said in a voice filled with disdain. “You have come at last.”
Marcos inclined his head slightly acknowledging the greeting. “How could I not, brother?”
The figure chuckled softly and stepped from the shadows. He was tall and thin dressed in a simple robe of black silk with a broad red sash about his waist. His face was identical to Marcos’s all save the eyes. Where Marcos’s were full of compassion and wisdom, Sur’kar’s were dark pits that betrayed no emotion.
Casius slipped in behind the pillars and slowly drew Aethir. Moving as quietly as possible he came to be standing only a few feet from Sur’kar’s side.
“I beg you to put an end to this war, Sur’kar?” Marcos asked stepping forward slowly. Unnoticed by all his ring began to burn with an argent flame.
“You sully yourself with these humans Ash’Kelon.” Sur’kar responded. “This world and all that lies within it could be ours for the taking.”
“This is their world, not ours!” Marcos replied. “I will not allow you to continue.”
“You were never my equal,” Sur’kar said with a laugh.
Casius chose this moment to strike, darting out from the shadows he plunged Aethir into Sur’kar’s side. The blade slid in easily up to the hilt and beyond as Sur’kar turned into a column of falling sand.
“A trap!” Marcos shouted as the orb above them erupted into a blazing light that nearly blinded them all.
Bolts of power stabbed outward wrapping around Marcos and throwing him against the ceiling and pinning him there. Suni leapt upward in an attempt to pull Marcos down. His hand grasped Marcos’s ankle and he was struck aside by a sheet of green flame that seared his clothing and singed his hair. Slamming him onto the floor with such force that he was stunned and could barely roll onto his side.
Marcos surrounded himself with argent flame and strove mightily against the emerald power holding him fast. The flames destroyed each other, and for a few moments it appeared as if Marcos was about to free himself.
The orb of fire flared anew and in a deafening blast it tore Marcos’s power from him. His clothing burst into flame and he screamed.
Within the fire he writhed in agony, with the last of his strength he tore the ring from his finger and threw it onto the ground at Suni’s feet.
“Remember your oath, Suni.” He said through clenched teeth. “Now run…” He screamed once more as the flames ripped away his disguise of humanity. “Run for your lives.”
Silver light flowed from his eyes and mouth growing brighter until it drowned out the emerald of the sphere. The tower shook violently and cracks appeared in the crystal overhead.
Casius fell too his knees unable to stand and watch the death of his companion. Connell crossed the floor and pulled him to his feet.
“We must leave now!” He shouted above the thunderous roar of power filling the room. “This tower is going to fall!”
Suni swept the ring from the floor and thrust it onto Casius finger.
“I killed him Suni,” Casius cried in grief. “It was my sword stroke that triggered the trap!”
“The living need you now!” Suni said hotly, his eyes burning with anger. “His death is my burden not yours.”
Casius was stunned by the display of emotion Suni was allowing. “But…” He muttered.
“Enough,” Suni commanded thrusting him toward the stair. “I was his guardian, not you. I have failed and have brought dishonor upon my order. I will not permit you to take on that which is mine to bear alone.”
Down the stairs they raced, the tower shaking violently forcing them to grasp the handrails to keep their footing. Into the great hall they ran. As they reached the floor the doors to the tower opened and two Trolls lumbered through the opening. Behind them came a dozen Morne.
The trolls roared a challenge and charged forward, the leading monster holding a giant iron mace over his head.
Suni rushed him and his Kalmari flashed in the dim light. The troll screamed striking at the agile warrior and missing. The head of the mace cracking the floor and throwing sparks high into the air.
Suni struck like lightning and shattered the monster’s knee. Screaming in agony the beast fell into the pit, clutching at the edge with one hand for the briefest of moments before plunging into the darkness below.
Spinning on his heel Suni rushed the next troll. The rage burning in his eyes frightening the dim witted brute.
Recoiling in fear the giant crushed several Morne beneath it as it backed away from the attacking man. The troll hurled its mace. Suni simply leapt clear and closed the distance. Striking with surprising power he cracked the giants ribs and shattered its forearm.
The Troll roared in anger and pain. Using his good arm it swung madly trying to crush the elusive human. His blows were ill aimed and sent several Morne over the pits edge.
Suni ducked to avoid a Morne blade and was caught by a glancing blow from the giant. He slammed into the floor and rolled onto his back.
The Troll sneered and raised his fist to crush the warrior.
Casius watched as Suni fell and screaming in rage he rushed forward burying the sword in the Troll’s chest. Blood erupted from the brute’s mouth.
Wrenching the sword free he fell upon the four remaining Morne. He drove them back toward the door, his sword weaving a web of flashing steel that no blade could penetrate. One by one the Morne fell, dying from cuts that were delivered to quickly to be seen.
Connell pulled Suni to his feet and watched in awe as Casius vented his fury into a foe that stood no chance against him.
“The way is clear!” Connell shouted pointing to the open doorway with his sword.
Before anyone could move the doorway darkened and a wave of fear slammed into them sapping their strength.
Casius groaned. It was the same sensation he had felt in the Nallen forest. The Ma’ul had come.
The Ma’ul burst into the chamber, wreathed in flame. The horror charged directly at Casius. Its horned head lowered to impale him.
Before he could move Suni flashed past him. The Anghor Shok rushed the terrifying creature and struck it a blow so powerful that it was stopped. The ground shook from the impact and Suni’s robe burst into flame. Ignoring the pain Suni sought to crush the demons skull.
The Ma’ul was no earthly foe and with a speed that defied belief it lashed out and caught the warrior in one mighty hand. Flames flared across its back as it crushed the human. Bones snapped and Suni’s skin blackened from the heat. Tossing the lifeless body aside the Maul casually picked up its glowing spear.
Seeing Suni’s death drove the fear from Casius. He screamed in rage and ran to the demon. Before the beast could react he drove Aethir into its flaming chest with both hands.
The black blade plunged through the stony hide as if it were butter. The sword screeched as it sank deep into the muscle and bone. The blade burst into flame as the power within it was awakened. Pale blue eldritch fire enshrouded Casius and the Ma’ul. The demon screamed as its very soul was shredded, the great power of its being was pulled into the sword.
Despite the heat Casius held onto the swords hilt. The blade bucked in his grip, screeching in protest as it absorbed a power it was never meant to. The sword could not contain the force of the Ma’ul and it released it into the body of its wielder. Casius screamed as the power rushed into him.
Yanking the sword free he staggered back towards the lip of the chasm. He was blinded, his eyes burning with the fires of hell. Around him the very air burned as fire poured from his body. Somewhere in his madness he could hear Connell calling his name as he stepped back over the edge of the chasm and vanished into the darkness below.
“Casius!” Connell shouted running towards the pit. He fell to his knees and slid to a stop a few inches from the edge. “Casius!” He shouted once more into the darkness. The tower shook violently and large slabs of stone fell from the ceiling.
Yoladt rushed through the falling debris and yanked Connell away from the crumbling edge. “He’s gone!” He shouted over the din. “They’re all gone!” He said after seeing Suni’s charred corpse.
Connell yanked his arm free of the Mahjie’s grasp.
“Connell,” Yoladt said softly, sharing in Connell’s grief. “The tower is falling, if we are to survive we must leave now.”
“Escape to where?” Connell asked angrily. “We have failed, our only chance to kill Sur’kar is gone!”
“While free men breathe there is always hope.” Yoladt responded. “There is a saying among the Mahjie, a mans heart is a sharper blade than any forged of steel.”
Casius nodded sheathing his sword. “Sur’kar may win this war, but it will cost him dearly.” He took one last look into the dark abyss and ran for the open door.
As they dashed across the bridge the tower groaned and fell in on itself in a great cloud of dust and cascading rubble.
Connell and Yoladt hugged the dust-clouded tunnel’s wall and slipped past a group of Morne racing towards the ruined keep.
At the base of the causeway they turned left and ducked into the shadows of the closest building.
“We should make for the forest while the Morne are occupied.” Connell said catching his breath.
“Aye,” Yoladt agreed. “And from there?”
“I will go to Timosh,” Connell answered looking around the corner of the building to see if the way was clear. “It is where the men of the east are making their stand.” Connell ducked back as a group of Morne rushed past headed for the tunnel. “Will you be going home then?”
Yoladt shook his head. “There is a legend among my people that the wielder of Aethir would lead us from the mountains to a rich fertile land were we would thrive and become a great nation.” Yoladt paused remembering Casius’s fall. “I will not return to my home and shatter the last hope of my people.”
“Then come and fight with me.” Connell invited the Mahjie. “Lets go,” He said motioning the warrior to follow him across the now deserted street.
“Is this Timosh far?” Yoladt whispered once they had entered a small courtyard.
“Half as far as the journey was from your own lands.”
“Another long walk then.” Yoladt said gloomily.
Just beyond the courtyard a horse snorted in the gloom.
“I said nothing of walking,” Connell said softly.
Yoladt looked about and realized they were standing in the garrison’s courtyard. “Those are the Morne horses.” Yoladt said awed by Connell’s audacity.
“Aye,” Connell replied. “While they are busy at the tower they’re free for the taking.”
A few minutes later to Morne cloaked figures raced their steeds through the dark town. Each mounted man leading a remount behind.
The towns inhabitants leapt clear of their path, believing them to be Morne messengers on some errand of great import.
Out of the town they thundered, the horses hooves tearing deep gouges in the soil. They took the eastern road and ran the mounts hard until foam flecked the stallion’s sides.
Chapter Thirteen
The Taur Di column stopped at the crest of a low hill. From where Burcott sat he could see the westward spur of the Rahlcrag Mountains rising above a low rocky plain that bordered the great rolling dunes of the wastes.
Spread out upon the plain before them lay an encamped host numbering in the thousands. Gossamer like tents formed concentric circles about a ring of poles bearing multicolored pennants. One tent stood alone in the circle of standards, its silky fabric dyed a dark scarlet. A lone standard flew above it, a flag the color of the desert sand with seven blue stars forming a ring in its middle.
“The nomads?” Burcott asked Jehnom who sat mounted at his side.
Jehnom nodded. “It would seem that the Sahri himself has left the open wastes to be here.”
A group of nomads appeared from the rocks. “Warriors of the Taur Di!” One of them shouted. “The Sahri sends his welcome, he wishes you to join us in friendship and peace.”
Burcott recognized the man as the one they had seen the day before. “Does the Sahri seek to bar our way?” Burcott asked.
The man bowed with a smile. “Lord Burcott, the tribes of the eastern wastes have gathered beneath the Sahri’s banner, but not to wage war upon the Taur Di.”
“Then why have you gathered here?” Jehnom asked the messenger.
“To wage war upon the Morne,” The nomad answered. “To join our forest brothers in exacting revenge upon the lizards of the north.”
“They number in the thousands!” One of Burcott’s men blurted out excitedly.
The nomad smiled, “Six thousand and three score.” He answered. “Never in our history have we left our lands in such numbers, nor have we faced such perils as our oracles have foreseen.” The Nomad touched his forehead and heart as he said the word oracle. “Who among you will speak for the Taur Di?”
“I have been selected as War Chief of the march from among my people.” Jehnom said with a slight nod of his head. “I am called Jehnom, the Willow.”
“And I have been given the name of Ahalm Iban, I hold the title of the Sahri’s herald.” He looked on Burcott’s men and then to the grim faced warrior before him. “Will you Lord Burcott speak for the outlanders as well?”
“I will,” Burcott replied. “In the name of my King, Gaelan of Trondhiem.”
Ahlmed nodded in acceptance. “See to your men and mounts. When all is ready meet me at the Sahri’s tent. The Sahri wishes to discuss the war and our part in it.” The herald bowed once more and jogged back towards the encampment.