BlackThorn's Doom (6 page)

By nightfall they were exhausted, Yoladt found a large enough boulder that they could all take shelter behind. Free from the howling wind they rested uneasily. The flashes of light and roiling booms of thunder hammered at their senses.

The lights faded as the sun climbed high into the sky but the thunder remained. The increasing light revealed the edge of the eternal storm. The boiling clouds twisted in a vast cyclone whose edge scudded along just below the uppermost reaches of the Vurgwall.

They stood in awe watching the violently twisting clouds pass by.

“At this storms heart lays the tower of V’rag.” Marcos informed them. “This is nothing more than a vain display of power, a means to keep his minions in check.”

Marcos turned to Casius. “Keep Aethir sheathed,” He advised. “Only draw it in the most dire circumstance. Lest its power draws unwanted eyes our way.”

Casius placed his hand on the dark hilt and nodded.

“Come it will be well past noon before the sun warms this pass. Let us warm our bones by walking.” Yoladt said taking the lead once more.

Their path began to slope gently downward, growing steeper as the hours passed. Towards the dark heart of Tarok nor they descended, across fuming ravines and along barren slopes where no signs of life could be found.

After several hours they emerged from the hidden pass and stood upon the upper slopes of the Vurgwall looking down into a world ripped from the very depths of hell.

Chapter Four

Burcott walked along the length of Fro’Hadume’s curtain wall. His eyes searching the hastily repaired fortification, looking for any possible means that they could improve upon their work.

As he neared the gate he paused and stood looking out over the stretch of burnt forest. Amid the blackened timber and ash a large mound had been erected. Covered with sod taken from the hillside it was the only patch of green within the fire-blackened landscape. Entombed deep in its heart they had laid the bodies of those brave warriors who had followed him into battle and lost their lives.

His men had paid a high price to hold this ruin. If it had not been for the Taur Die they all would have fallen. His force numbered less than five hundred now, thirty-two of which bore serious wounds from the combat. Many of them would never hold a blade again; fewer still would see another summer. With little more than four hundred men he was still determined to hold the hills for Prince Gaelan.

Beyond the mound a man stepped out of the shadows of the tree line. Using his hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun he watched as the figure moved gracefully through the fallen timber. Less than a mile separated them but Burcott knew the man by the way he moved. An almost catlike grace that seemed to be more suited to moving along treetops than upon flat ground.

“Jehnom!” Burcott shouted in greeting heading for the stairs.

Jehnom raised his spear in reply. “Burcott!” He shouted back with a broad smile. Resting his spear butt onto the ground he exchanged a firm handshake with the large man. “I bear tidings from the north, dark news that you must be made aware of.

“The Morne have marched and now lay siege to the great fortress of stone that lays within the comb of the mountains.”

“Timosh,” Burcott said.

Jehnom ducked his head. “Timosh,” He repeated with his odd accent. “The walls yet hold, the new King leads valiant men in its defense.”

Jehnom shook his head. “They hold for now, but the keep will fall if they are unaided. The force arrayed against them is beyond count.”

Burcott chewed his lip in frustration. “I have not the men to make a difference.”

“The Morne have been driven from our lands, few are the survivors who have escaped northward.” Jehnom said with a touch of pride. “The southern tribes have arrived and our clans are ready.”

“Ready?” Burcott asked. “For what?”

“The Taur Di go to war.” Jehnom said gravely. “Because of the bravery of your men a place is offered for as many of you who wish to join us.

“We intend to march northward and crush the Morne against the walls of Timosh.”

Burcott exhaled loudly, the offer was enticing. “I cannot go.” He answered regretfully. “My duty lies here, I have been charged with preserving the southern border.”

“To what end?” Jehnom asked. “If the Morne break Timosh, your guardianship will be for naught.” He looked past Burcott to the walls of Fro’Hadume. “The men you leave here will face no threats. Twelve thousand Taur Di will now guard the forest edge, and your keep.”

Jehnom could see that Burcott was still determined to remain. “There are horrors from out of legend facing your King. Things that nobody believed existed. Against such foes he cannot prevail alone.

“Our scouts have given what aid they could. Along with men from the watch towers they have set fire to the siege engines of the Morne. Most died in the effort but they succeeded only in delaying the inevitable. For as we speak the Morne are rebuilding the towers and catapults.”

Jehnom smiled awkwardly. “Burcott, we know the forest and are skilled in fighting an enemy beneath her boughs.” He looked away towards the great trees. “We need you, our victory may depend upon your knowledge of warfare upon the plains.”

Burcott cleared his throat after a moments thought. “Have Tellius meet me in the courtyard!” He shouted to the watch upon the wall.

Within the hour Burcott rode out of the keep, leading a column of one hundred volunteers. Following their lord out of the bright sunlight, they passed into the shadowy darkness of the forest.

Tall stately trees faded into the distant gloom. Their branches festooned with hanging sheets of gray moss and vines laden with colorful flowers. Shafts of sunlight penetrated the canopy, highlighting the verdant undergrowth. It was peaceful within the wood; the only sound was that of their passage.

The brush ahead of them rustled as a large deer leapt onto the trail ahead of them. It was a great brute, as large as a horse with antlers that spanned six feet across. Upon its back sat Jehnom, using neither saddle nor bridle the Taur Di rode with great skill.

Raising his spear in salute he motioned for them to follow. The deer bounded down the trail, moving sure footed and silent.

Burcott marveled at the creature’s speed and grace. “Lets go.” He said urging his mount down the trail at a trot.

Jehnom increased the pace, the horsemen following at a gallop. The mounts thundered through the wood, their hooves tearing great rents in the loamy soil.

After a short while they came to the Taur Di column. There were thousands of mounted warriors, each riding a stag of great size and strength. Both men and women made up their ranks. Their hair was braided and decorated with leaves and feathers of different colors and sizes.

They moved silently, shadows amid the trees. They watched the horsemen pass, a few nodding in greeting.

Jehnom led them to the rear of the advancing army, to a place just before the supply train. Once they were in position he whistled sharply and far ahead of them a horn sounded.

The army surged forward its pace quickened by the horns call. In nearly perfect silence the Taur Di moved forward. Even the wagons behind them moved far quieter than Burcott thought possible. The only sounds that marked their passage was that of the horses ridden by Burcott and his men.

“This is why we ride toward the rear.” Jehnom mentioned to Burcott. “Our lead elements will surprise any enemy ahead of us.”

“How many warriors have you?” Burcott asked. He was having trouble estimating the size of their force. The trees hid many from view at times.

“More than four thousand Taur Di have taken the blood oath.” Jehnom answered. “We would not allow more, the forest must be protected.”

“Four thousand,” Burcott muttered aloud. He had seen these people fight and he knew that the Morne were in serious trouble once the Taur Di arrived.

Chapter Five

King Wolhan stepped out onto the towers roof. Night had fallen and with it had come the severe cold that hinted of winter. He adjusted his heavy cloak and as his eyes adjusted to the gloom he could see D’Yana. She stood facing westward looking out of the comb towards the dark lands beyond.

King Wolhan moved to stand by her side. In the dark he could see the faint glimmer of gold within her hand. “D’Yana,” He said in greeting startling her.

She recovered from her surprise quickly and bowed her head. “King Wolhan.” She said. “What brings you out into this cold?” She asked pleasantly.

“His mother gave that to him long ago.” The King said with a smile. “It was worn by his grandfather and means more to him than any thing he has ever owned.” Taking it from her hand he removed a silver chain from around his neck and threaded it through the ring.

“Speaking as a father,” He said slipping the chain about her neck. “I am pleased that you two have found each other.”

D’Yana looked up from the ring, a touch of fear in her eyes. “Are you, I am not of noble birth?”

Wolhan laughed. “So you are not spoiled, or skilled in the treachery of court politics.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “The fact that my son loves you is enough for me. You are of noble heart, any who says differently must do so before me.”

D’Yana lifted her head slightly a faint glimmer of defiance flitting across her face. “Why are you telling me this?” She asked firmly.

“It would be safer for you to accompany them. Timosh cannot stand long against the force arrayed before these walls. Already we have nearly been overrun.” He said looking westward. “Something is afoot, the Trolls have been clearing a broad path through the wood, and westward it leads. I believe they are preparing to bring something forward. A new evil that we are ill equipped to face.” He returned his wearied gaze to her eyes. “It would be better for you to be gone ere it arrives.”

D’Yana shook her head. “Though you are a king and leader of men, I must answer no. Have I not fought upon these walls? Are not my swords stained with the blood of our enemies?” She answered hotly, her cheeks flushed with anger. “It was bad enough to be left behind when my companions ventured forth into danger. I will not turn my back now.” Her voice softened and a smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Besides there are none here who could best me in combat. Good king Wolhan, my place is here.”

King Wolhan shrugged and smiled. “I tried.” He said with a laugh.

D’Yana hugged him once more. “That you did.” She laughed lightly. “Now that honor is satisfied, let us talk no more of my leaving.”

Chapter Six

Casius stood staring out into the vast crater of Tarok Nor. The bottom lay swathed in shadows; within the darkness ribbons of fire shone brightly the acidic smoke from their burning adding to the gloom below.

The jagged peaks of the Vurgwall encircled the great crater, fifty miles the scar stretched across the earth. In its center rose the smoking ruin of the great mountain Trothgar.

Reduced from its former glory it was little more than a ring of stone a mile high at its northern edge, dwindling to less than a few hundred feet at its southern reaches.

The calderas burned brightly, orange light flared beneath a towering column of dark smoke and ash that added to the chaos above them.

Deep rumbles echoed from within the hellish pit, competing with the thunderous booms of lightning above.

No sunlight penetrated the oppressive darkness above, leaving the entire crater in a perpetual twilight. Below them lay mile upon mile of fuming fields of ash and half melted rock. Dark clouds of poisonous gas drifted over the fire blasted landscape threatening death to any foolish enough to enter.

To the east the land was higher, a dense tangle of sinister looking trees blanketing the earth. They were sickly looking, with pale yellow leaves and twisted trunks whose bark hung in tattered sheets. Where the forest touched the mountain’s base the trees were swathed in a thick fog. Their limbs without leaves, swaying over dead trunks bleached white as bone.

As Casius gazed into the gloom a feeling of despair and helplessness came upon him. “So this is where evil dwells.” He said to himself.

Marcos who was standing nearby looked up from his examination of the path ahead. “This is only a manifestation of evil Casius.” He said softly. “Evil shares its home with good. Look only into the hearts of men, there you will find the seeds of both.”

Casius placed his hand upon Aethir’s hilt. The blades hum was barely discernable. Since passing over the Vurgwall the blade had grown Quiescent. As if it sensed their need for stealth.

Casius looked down the Vurgwall at his feet. The stone fell away in a sheer drop of several hundred feet before flaring out into a gentle slope of jumbled rock that bordered the fiery plain below. A narrow ledge marred the rock face, sloping downward towards the northeast.