Asgoleth The Warrior: A Modern Tale of Sword And Sorcery (fantasy fiction books) (13 page)

Amira's eyes cleared as Demos relaxed his hold upon her mind. She sobbed and staggered and Asgoleth put his arm about her slim waist to support her.

‘Oh Asgoleth, what is happening to me?’

Before he could answer a loud humming noise filled the air and they both turned their gaze upon the mountain. They watched a brilliant spear of red light reach out and strike the flank of the mountain and where it touched, the stone began to melt and run like water.

Under the assault of the terrible weapon the mountain began to collapse in a gigantic avalanche. Tumbling rocks and stones filled the air with a deafening roar and a huge cloud of dust filled the air. Asgoleth and Amira were thrown off their feet as the ground shook and trembled under the impact of millions of tons of falling rock.

Asgoleth held her to him, protecting her as best he could within his arms from the stones that bounced through the air all around them. At last the rumbling died away and a dusty silence filled the land. He climbed to his feet and stared in awe at the destruction Demos had wrought. Of the mountain, only a tumbled hill of broken, jagged, rocks remained and the young barbarian shuddered. With such power at his command Demos was invincible. He tried to imagine the fate of any army that went up against such a weapon and he shuddered again at the images his mind brought forth. Mortal men could not withstand such hellish sorcery.

He felt a thrill of superstitious unease run through him as he considered the thought that Demos was indeed an inhuman monster. Such a one would not hesitate to use such power against his enemies. Cities, no matter how well defended and fortified, would fall easily before him. Whole armies would be reduced to ash. The world would fall beneath the sway of the tyrant and nothing good or wholesome would survive. Only a bleak and dreadful future lay ahead with all men everywhere the slaves of Demos the Sorcerer.

‘It shall not be!’

The words rang from his lips loud and defiant as he glared at the ruined mountain.

‘By Ragnar's beard I swear. It shall not be.’

A cruel, mocking laugh from Amira directed his attention away from the destruction and onto her. Her eyes glittered with malevolent glee and he knew that once more Demos had taken possession of her mind. Again his hateful voice emanated from her beautiful lips.

‘Brave words fool but words cannot stop me. You have seen my power. Soon I shall be the master of an empire such as the world has never seen. You will have nowhere to hide then barbarian. Surrender to me now and I will grant you a quick death as a reward for bringing me the Heart of Ra. Continue to defy me and your death will be long and slow and hideously painful. Come to me barbarian. Come to me now.’

Mocking laughter rose from her lips and Asgoleth snarled and raised his fist to strike out at his enemy. Just in time he realised that the blow would only hurt Amira, not Demos and he held his hand. Demos spoke through her once more.

‘Well done barbarian, you must not hurt your pretty princess. Even though she can become my eyes and ears at any time I choose and betray you to me. Take her and run barbarian. Try to avoid my soldiers while she calls out to them. Let’s see how far you will get before you decide she must be slain to save your own worthless skin. Go barbarian, Run!’

Once more his mocking laughter rang out and pealed off the surrounding rocks. The noise would alert every Akonite to his position and he acted swiftly. He ripped the remains of her gown from her body and used a wadded up ball of cloth as a gag. Then he quickly tore the remainder of the gown into strips which he used to bind her arms and legs. Silenced and helpless she looked utterly pathetic and he felt an unusual stir of pity. Then he saw that malevolent glitter in her eyes and he hardened his heart. To save them both he must subject her to this indignity but he vowed that he would make Demos pay for it. He would save her and he would destroy Demos and the gods help any man who tried to stop him.

He scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder then began to glide smoothly among the jumbled rocks carrying his burden easily. All around him he could hear the Akonite soldiers as they searched for him. They tried to move silently but they were city bred men and they betrayed their presence to his wilderness bred senses with every step they took.

He stopped abruptly listening and scenting the air. There were men ahead of him and a cold mirthless smile touched his lips. It was time for the hunted to become the hunter. He moved forward again, his keen ears picking up the rasp of their leather harness and the soft clink of their weapons; His keener nostrils pinpointing their position by their unwashed stench. With deadly intent he closed in upon them and there was no mercy in his eyes.

Amira began to kick and wriggle in a frenzy as Demos tried to use her to warn his men. Asgoleth knew that soon even city men’s ears would pick up the noise of her struggles and he grunted and dropped her to the ground. Stones began to fly and clatter noisily as she kicked furiously where she lay. The barbarian waited until he heard the Akonites approach then he grinned at Amira and moved stealthily away until he blended into the shadows among the rocks and was lost to sight.

Too late Demos realised that the savage was using the girl as bait. He caused her to cease her struggling but it was too late, the Akonites were upon her. From his rocky perch Asgoleth looked down upon the scene and grinned as he saw a young Akonite officer upon a fine stallion draw his steed to a halt and looked down at Amira. His men stopped too, looking warily all around them. They knew that the man they hunted was deadly dangerous.

‘Spread out and find him men.’ The officer snapped. ‘He must be nearby. He would not go off and leave the wench. Find him and bring him to me.’

He watched as his men scurried to obey his command. They moved among the rocks poking and prying with sword and spear point at every shadow. He cast a look around himself but saw nothing then his eye fell upon the writhing girl on the ground and he frowned. She was glaring wild eyed at him and nodding her head frantically. He stared at her for a long moment then his eyes too flew wide as he realised that she was trying to warn him of danger behind him.

He twisted around in his saddle raising his sword to strike and saw the form of the barbarian rising up from the rocks like a ghost from the earth. The savage was grinning as he threw a large heavy rock with all of his mighty strength behind it. The officers cry was abruptly silenced as the crude, heavy missile smashed into him. Helmet and breastplate crumpled under that terrible impact and blood and brains sprayed through the air as the man crashed to the ground and lay still.

Asgoleth leapt into the saddle of the rearing horse, exerting all of his great strength on the reins to ruthlessly bring the animal quickly under his control. Then he turned the beasts head and charged at his enemies. The Akonites were taken by surprise despite their alertness. Asgoleth's sword rose and fell and with each blow an enemy died. The rearing horse flailed its iron shod hooves through the air and helmets and skulls fractured under the crushing blows.

The Akonites, their officer slain, began to panic under the relentless assault of the blood smeared demon who had appeared so suddenly and terribly among them. One by one they turned and fled and as they did so Asgoleth gave vent to his wild and chilling war cry to encourage them on their way. Among the stones it rang and echoed and all who heard it shuddered to their very souls.

One Akonite, braver than the rest, tried to dislodge Asgoleth from the saddle by grabbing hold of the stallions neck in an attempt to force the beast to its knees but Asgoleth leaned forward with a snarl on his lips and smashed the hilt of his sword into the side of the man’s head. The warrior cried out and his eyes flew wide with fear as he lost his grip and fell beneath those deadly iron shod hooves. The weight of horse and rider came down upon him and his cries ceased abruptly as death reached out and took him.

Asgoleth wrenched the horse back to its feet and headed back to where Amira still wriggled upon the ground. He leaned down from the saddle as he passed and lifted her easily across his saddle bow in one graceful movement.

No more enemies came against him and he rode victoriously away from the scene of the battle. Amira's eyes blazed with red fury as Demos glared through them at his enemy. Asgoleth grinned down into those eyes and said,

‘Perhaps you are not quite as all powerful as you think you are Demos Eh?’

Amira’s body wriggled and squirmed but she could do nothing else as she was held fast by the young barbarian and finally the red glow faded from her eyes as Demos relinquished control of her and allowed her to fall into a swoon. Asgoleth frowned down at her and again vowed to make the tyrant pay for her suffering. Then he turned the horses head towards distant Torr. That was where the final battle would be fought and he had much to do before that day came.

Demos glared angrily out of his chamber window at the far off Agar Mountains. Since his return from the blasted lands three weeks before he had faced nothing but one setback after another. Somewhere in those mountains a ragged army of Hillmen and Torran survivors lurked.

They moved at will, destroying his supply columns, attacking and burning his outposts in swift hit and run raids. His men were no match for the desperate and vengeful Torrans. Some of the Torran scum had been captured but all of them had died rather than reveal the location of their companions.

He suspected that the barbarian Asgoleth had a hand in their rebellion but he could not verify it. He had lost his control over the mind of Amira four days after she and the savage had escaped. Perhaps they were both dead out in the wasteland somewhere but he did not really believe that.

He had shared their nightmare journey, watching through her eyes as they battled their way across the Blasted Lands. He had watched with contempt the barbarian's efforts to care for the girl. Saw how he forced her to drink what little water they had, saw the brute’s anguish when he, Demos, caused her to fight and struggle against him. Yet still the barbarian struggled on with his burden. His last sight through her eyes had been of the barbarian brooding over a small fire. He had been cooking meat from their horse which had died earlier that day but when he tried to get her to eat Demos had not allowed her to do so. Finally the barbarian had given a growl of anger and raised his fist.

‘Forgive me, Amira.’ he had said and then his fist had lashed out and darkness had closed in on Demos.

Since that time he had been unable to regain control of the girl. Perhaps the savage had finally slain her. Aye, perhaps he had. Demos shook his head, he knew that if the situation had been reversed that is what he would have done.

A sudden sharp twinge of pain in his arm made him jump and curse. He had used his ancient arts to heal the broken bone swiftly so that he had full use of the limb but still, on occasion, it pained him deeply. If he ever managed to capture that filthy barbarian animal again he would exact a terrible revenge upon him.

His musings were disturbed by a knock on his chamber door.

‘Enter.’ he called. The door opened and a guard entered the room and saluted.

‘My lord, General Valshin seeks an audience with you and waits outside.’

‘Then show him in you fool and be quick about it.’ he snapped. The guard saluted again and left the room and a moment later the general entered.

Demos looked at him coldly. General Valshin had been put in command of the garrisons that now manned the old Torran forts; to him had been given the task of quelling any rebels who still lived. A task he had so far failed miserably at.

Now however Demos saw a glint of eagerness in the man’s eyes. Perhaps at last he had had some success against his foes.

‘Well what have you to report?’ Demos demanded. General Valshin swallowed nervously and said,

‘My lord, two days ago one of my patrols ambushed and captured a group of hillmen. The prisoners proved to be as stubborn as all of those hill bred dogs. There was one among them though who, in exchange for gold and his life, will lead us to the enemy camp.’

Demos raised an eyebrow and said,

‘You have done well, general. Have this Hillman delivered to me, I would have words with him.’

Valshin grinned when he saw that he had pleased his master.

‘The man awaits outside, my lord.’

Valshin clapped his hands and the door swung open once more to admit two burly guards who bore between them the chained, ragged figure of a Hillman. They threw him to his knees before Demos and held their weapons ready for the first sign of treachery.

Demos settled himself comfortably on a divan and gestured to a slave girl who rushed to fill a golden goblet with fine Torran wine. He dismissed the girl and sipped appreciatively for a moment or two before finally turning his cruel gaze upon the cowering wretch at his feet.

Small, bright eyes stared back at him from a filthy bearded face. The marks of much hardship clung to the man and he held himself tensely as he knelt on the floor. Demos surveyed him coldly for a few seconds more then said,

‘So, my friend, I have been told that for a price, you would be willing to lead my soldiers to the encampment of your friends. Why would you betray them to us?’

The Hillman snorted in disgust.

‘They are no friends of mine, great lord. What have I ever had from them save an empty belly and an even emptier purse? With your gold I will be able to live well in this great city and have all that I desire.’

Demos stared shrewdly at him.

‘It is as you say, Hillman. With gold in his purse a man may indeed live well but gold has to be earned. If you answer my questions truthfully you will be given more gold than you have ever seen before. If you do not, you will die. Do you understand?’

The man grinned and said,

‘Ask what you will, my lord and I will answer as best I can.’

‘Very well then,’ said Demos. ‘Tell me then who has raised the Agar warriors against me and how many men do they number?’