BlackThorn's Doom (8 page)

In the morning Marcos washed out Yoladt’s wound and sewed the still seeping gash shut with a needle and thread taken from their supplies. The Mahjie sat quietly, only the clenching of his fist betrayed any sign of the pain he was enduring.

“You must keep this covered and clean.” Marcos advised him as he worked. “The risk of infection in this place is great.”

They broke their fast and set off once more. The land began to descend and the trees grew further apart. Great pits yawned in the forest floor. Their bottoms filled with pools of bubbling mud that leaked long plumes of steam into the sky.

Suni found a narrow trail through the brush that led eastward. Taking advantage of it they covered many miles far quicker than they could have fighting through the undergrowth. Then the trail ahead ended abruptly in a large clearing.

A steaming pond of black water covered with a film of yellow scum lay before them. A strip of barren ground ran to either side of the water forming a narrow shore.

Suni stopped at the clearings edge; he stood staring out across the water a look of distrust on his face.

He took a step forward, then another. Suddenly the water erupted. Black water flew high into the air as a slime-covered coil of flesh lashed out at his legs.

Had it been any other man he would have been ensnared and drug to a watery grave, but this was Ravin Suni, Anghor Shok. He leapt above the writhing coil and in a graceful back flip he landed several feet beyond its reach. Casually brushing the sand from his legs he rejoined his startled companions. “We should find a way around this quagmire.” He said calmly.

The trees thinned once more as they came to the end of the living wood. Less than two miles away stood the western flanks of the rumbling volcano. The ground between them and the fire-belching peak was filled with dead trees, many of them yet standing. Little more than barren boles rising above the fallen remains of their brethren.

They moved forward cautiously the ground knee deep in ash and cinders. Moving to the edge of the dead wood they stood staring upward at the towering column of ash and smoke as it rose above them.

The lower reaches shedding glowing embers and large chunks of molten stone. That fell back onto the fire scarred flanks of the volcano. In brilliant explosions of orange light the stones struck and rolled down the peak to crash onto the ground.

The heat was oppressive reaching out and flushing their faces. Connell shook his head and waved them back to the wood, away from the heat.

“We cannot hope to survive such a climb.” Connell said mopping the sweat from his brow. “It is suicide to even try.”

“Our path lies not that way.” Marcos said looking to the mountain. “There is but one safe route into Trothgar, through Thraldur, the gate of skulls.”

“It will be heavily guarded.” Connell replied.

“Aye it will.” Marcos said in agreement. “But it is the only way. Try and enter by another route and the flesh will burn from your bones.

“Within that mountain there is a lake of liquid fire, an inferno of terrible heat and violence.” Marcos took a seat on a fallen log. “Sur’kar believes himself safe within his keep, but there will be patrols about. The closer we draw to the gate the more likely we will run into them.”

“Where lies this gate?” Yoladt asked.

“On the south eastern face of the mountain.” Marcos answered pointing in the general direction. “The wall of the mountain is lower over the gate. A tunnel pierces the side leading to a bridge over the lake of fire. There upon an islet of glassy stone stands the citadel of our enemy, the tower V’rag.”

“Long ago I saw this mountain burning in her glory. I watched as it was struck down, so mighty was that blow that it nearly destroyed this fair earth.” Marcos paused, dispelling the memories that came to mind. “How I have hoped never to look upon this dark place again.”

“Standing here gets us no closer to our goal.” Connell said breaking Marcos’s train of thought. “If we must circle this mountain then, we have days of walking yet ahead of us.”

They moved deeper into the wood and began moving northward once more. It was fortunate that they did so. For as the reached the shelter of the trees a mounted patrol of twenty men rode around the mountain and into view.

They dropped into the underbrush, watching as the riders drew nearer. The patrol rode within the stand of dead trees, keeping to a well-worn track. They passed within a few hundred feet, the riders oblivious to the hidden men.

They were gaunt men, dressed in heavy chain armor. Their helmets were crested, bearing long tails of horsehair dyed scarlet. From within their visors burned eyes as red as hot coals.

Each warrior bore an unadorned buckler and wore a broadsword about their waist. Their shield hand held the reins to their maddened mounts while their other held a wickedly barbed lance aloft its butt resting in a leather cup attached to their stirrups.

The horses flanks were fire scarred, a few bore fresh burns that oozed wetly. Their eyes were wild and they chomped at their bits. The only thing keeping the mounts in check was the cruelty of their masters.

No one breathed; they lay in the undergrowth watching the patrol from gaps in the leaves.

The horsemen paused for only a few moments before spurring their mounts forward once more. The frightened beasts raced through the ash and disappeared into the distance.

Connell carefully raised his head and watched as the last horseman disappeared around an outthrust knuckle of stone.

“Its clear,” He said softly, brushing the ash from his clothing. “It would appear that we have run into the patrols sooner than you believed Marcos.”

“We were fortunate.” Marcos said rubbing his eyes. “We have allowed our weariness to cloud our judgment. We cannot afford to relax our guard, lest we fall into a trap.”

“Those were not men.” Casius said. “Aethir nearly burned through its sheath at their approach.”

“You are correct Casius,” Suni said. “Grel’in, they are named by my people. Once they were brave men, heroes of old whose minds and bodies have been subjugated by spirits loyal to the Kin slayer.”

“The fact that twenty of them are moving through this forest proves that Sur’kar is aware of our presence.” Yoladt ventured.

Marcos shook his head. “It only proves that he is being cautious. Had he sensed our presence we would be facing thousands of his followers, not twenty.”

“To be honest, I had believed us to be on a doomed mission.” Yoladt said. “If one of the worlds eternal evils can be slain, then perhaps there is hope for us yet.”

“Though the odds are against us we are not altogether helpless.” Marcos said.

Yoladt looked at the determination in the faces around him. These men had ventured into his hidden realm without fear or hesitation. They were battle hardened, having tested their metal against foes both formidable and terrifying.

It was a wonder he had not seen it in them before. Even young Casius possessed an inner strength that had yet to be fully realized.

A surge of hope cleansed the darkness from around his heart. If any were worthy of the blade it was these men.

“What are we waiting for?” He asked jovially. “There is a god waiting to be killed.”

The others laughed, but all Casius could do was force a grin. After all it was his hand that was expected to slay an immortal being of terrible power.

Around the northern face of the volcano they walked, keeping well within the trees. The patrol had been a frightening wakeup call and now they moved with great caution.

Hours later they made camp beside a deadfall of charred timbers. The mountain was several miles away now; a fetid swamp of black water and boiling mud had forced them further into the wood. After Suni’s encounter near the pond no one wanted to stray close to any sizable body of water.

They did not rest well; the mountain seemed to be growing more active throughout the night. At dawn the mountain let loose a blast so violent that it uprooted many of the dead trees and knocked the men from their feet.

Casius watched as the column of ash grew too twice its size. It roiled skyward casting bolts of lighting as it swelled. Huge glowing boulders fell from the dark mass, impacting in the forest and setting parts of it ablaze.

“Sur’kar’s hand!” Marcos shouted. “He is showing his power to the world.”

A second blast staggered them as a great rent was torn in the volcano’s cone. Molten stone flowed through the opening, a river of light and smoke searing whatever it touched.

The lava raced downward at great speed slamming into the forest to the south. Trees exploded in the sudden heat as their sap boiled and burst from the trunks.

“Let’s get going.” Connell urged them. “If that flow expands we may get caught in the fire.”

They needed no further urging. Suni took the lead and headed away from the still quaking volcano. He only slowed his pace once they had reached some higher ground.

A steep ridge of naked rock rose out of the ground before them, a lone tree growing upon its crest. They climbed the ridge and stood beneath the tree looking out at the forest.

The expanse of the wood stretched for miles ending at the base of the Vurgwall on the far horizon. Beyond the jagged peaks a thin sliver of blue sky was visible. This meager sight heartened them greatly, a reminder of the beauty of the world beyond the black walls of this hellish land.

Vast areas of the forest vanished from sight as huge clouds of ash fell from the sky, burning embers igniting thousands of fires throughout the land.

Casius looked at the scene below. “I thought we had seen the worst of it.” He said to Connell.

Connell gripped his friend’s shoulder in a show of support. “We’ve made it this far Casius, do not give in to despair now. For good or ill our journey nears its end.”

“Will it end well?” He asked looking to Marcos for an answer.

Marcos measured his companions with a glance before speaking. “Nothing is assured in times such as these. Only the destruction of everything we hold dear should we fail to act.

“What matters most is that we succeed. To this end we must, one and all be willing to give our lives.” He smiled as each man nodded his understanding and willingness to die to stop Sur’kar’s evil.

The courage they showed rivaled that of the greatest heroes he had known during the dawn war. Sur’kar was a fool indeed to believe that mankind had weakened over the ages.

With a nod to his companions he led them back down into the forest and towards their goal.

Chapter Seven

Night had fallen, Cold and moonless it sapped at the strength of the men upon the walls. Along with the darkness came a harsh wind. Blowing in from the west its freezing fingers tore through the sheltered comb stealing what little warmth the day had left behind. All along the wall the torches flickered fitfully, fighting to stay lit in the wind.

A strange odor accompanied the zephyr, a foul stench that made the sentries eyes water. They watched through blurry eyes, as the fires of the Morne encampment grew brighter as wood was added to the flames. The increasing heat driving back the worst of the cold.

D’Yana stood atop the tower, leaning against the rough stone of the merlon; she stared into the darkness looking westward her thoughts for Connell and his companions.

King Gaelan stepped out of the tower and walked towards her. He stopped several feet away not wishing to intrude. He was about to turn away when she sighed and took notice of him.

“King Gaelan,” She said with a quick flash of a smile.

Gaelan nodded in return. How lucky Connell was he thought, D’Yana was both beautiful and strong. The entire keep respected her; a warrior who had proven herself in combat many times over since the siege had begun.

She was a devil with those swords, lightning fast and lethal. Many Morne and more than her share of Trolls wandered the netherworld because of them. Gaelan could think of no one better suited for his cousin.

“Anything new?” He asked breaking the silence.

D’Yana shrugged and looked to the Morne encampment. “It has been two weeks since their last attack. I know something is going to happen soon, I can feel it in the air.”

Gaelan nodded looking to the fires as well. “The men are rested, whatever their scheme is we will be in fair shape to stand against it.”

Gaelan listened; he heard the whistling wind and popping of the torches. In the distance a man coughed and a few others joked quietly. He was about to speak when the faint sound of creaking timbers and grunting Trolls reached his ears.

In the distance a Morne campfire disappeared as something moved in front of it. After a few moments several more fires vanished, one after another. What ever was approaching was enormous and its weight was cracking stone beneath ironclad wheels.

“Sound the alarm!” He shouted, breaking the still of the night.

He strained his eyes against the darkness trying to see what new threat they faced. Behind him horns blew and a bell rang. Within minutes the wall was bristling with hard faced men who’s skills had been honed by many battles.