BlackThorn's Doom (25 page)

“Tis the curse of Delin’ Tor.” Gaelan answered relieved to see his two friends yet among the living. “It is said that no animal can ever set foot upon the plateau. I had hoped this to be only a rumor but it is true I fear.”

As the sun sank in the west Graymane’s long shadow fell over them. Many of the men looked up, taking what they believed to be their last look upon the sun. For each man feared they would not last out the night against such odds.

The hoary old trees grew a short distance back from the precipice, twenty some odd feet of open ground littered with broken boulders and thick brush formed the rampart upon which they stood.

D’Yana had moved to within a few feet of the wood. She stood staring into its darkening depths. The sense of being watched sending goose bumps along her arms.

“Reminds me of the Nallen forest in Lakarra.” Connell said causing her to jump slightly.

“Yes it does,” She answered. “Only here the oppression feels heavier, as if we are not welcomed.”

Connell stepped forward and rested his hand upon the rough bark of the nearest tree. “These trees are old.” He said. “Look about and you will see no new growth, not even brambles grow beneath these boughs. This forest accepts nothing new into it.” Connell paused, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. “Marcos would know more.”

“It is hard to believe that so many of our friends are dead.” D’Yana said missing her companions greatly.

Connell stepped back from the wood and embraced her lightly, sharing her grief.

D’Yana looked over his shoulder and along the line of weary men manning the precipice. “They died fighting for what they loved.” She said breaking the embrace. “Now it is our turn.” She loosened her twin swords in their sheaths, her eyes growing cold with repressed fury.

Connell held her gaze for a long moment; he wanted to lie, to tell her that all would be well. But he knew that would only be a false hope and D’Yana was far too intelligent to see it as anything else.

D’Yana met his troubled gaze and smiled, a soft sad smile that failed to reach her eyes. “Perhaps there is hope yet?” She said. “After all you did slay the Balhain.”

Above them the sky grew black in a fiery display of red and orange. The first stars began to shine and the night grew colder as a breeze wafted down from the snow-clad sides of the mountain.

Gaelan walked among the men with King Pelatus at his side. He could see the defeat in their eyes, the smell of fear becoming almost palatable.

He moved along offering words of encouragement until he came to a large boulder, a flat-topped stone standing tall above all the others. He climbed atop the rock, nimbly scaling the stone as if all his weariness had vanished.

“Here me!” He shouted above the din the enemy was making in their final approach. “Long ago, the people of this land fought the Morne.

“They too were outnumbered and the great keep of Timosh was yet to be raised. King Kalland retreated with the remains of his army to this very spot. His men were weary and filled with despair but they held. Facing twice their number they fought for days, decimating the Morne.

“And when all seemed lost they rallied and charged down the rock face and whelmed their foe. In the battle the Morne’s false prophet was cast down by Kalland and the enemy fled.” Gaelan paused looking into his men’s eyes, searching for the spark of defiance. “We are yet free,” He said. “Our blades are sharp and our courage is whole. Let them come and taste eastern steel.” He lifted his sword high and jumped down from his perch.

The men roared in approval striking their blades against shields, raising such a clamor that the Morne’s approach stalled for a moment.

Arrayed across the hillside stood the host of Tarok-nor. A dark shadow that writhed as the Morne marched forward. Behind them came the Ma’ul, its great back wreathed with living fire. It towered over the Morne setting trees ablaze with its passage. The first hint of its fear casting began to darken the defenders hearts. The men braced themselves knowing it would only grow as the demon drew nearer.

In the clear ground before the Ma’ul stood Sur’kar, unconcerned that the abomination towered over him. The intense heat of the beast touched him not. So sure was he of his power he smiled at the foolish men upon the plateau’s edge.

Connell tightened the grip upon his father’s sword. Gone now was the golden radiance that slew the Balhain, the steel yet shone but it lay quiescent in his palm.

Dawn Singer the Balhain had named the blade in his fear. How he wished it were Aethir instead, The blade that would end Sur’kar’s quest for domination and avenge all the fallen men who strove against this evil, but that hope had died in V’rag. Lost when Casius fell before the Ma’ul, buried within the burning rubble of Sur’kar’s tower.

The drums continued to beat and the Morne joined in striking their swords against bucklers of iron.

The Soldiers of Ao’dan joined in striking their swords against shields. Not to be outdone the Knights of Ril’Gambor slapped the sides of their axes with gauntleted hands.

Three horns sounded from below and the Morne charged forward with a blood-curdling cry. Up the shallow slope they raced coming to the escarpment. They began to scramble up the cliff face as rocks by the hundreds rained down upon them.

Bones were shattered and skulls crushed beneath the onslaught and yet they persevered. The men above began levering larger boulders over the edge seeking to drive the enraged Morne back.

The Morne countered and arrows struck the men above. Bodies began to fall amid the stones, black shafts protruding from their armor.

The ground shook as boulders struck, the front ranks collapsed and Morne died by the thousands, their bodies crushed.

And still they came, trampling the dead underfoot. Those who did reach the escarpments edge found Axes and Swords awaiting them.

The defenders fought valiantly, hacking away at their foe while arrows whizzed past them. The heavily armored Knights held the stair. Forming a wall of gleaming steel they cut any down who were foolish enough to rush upward.

Connell and D’Yana fought side by side, their blades darkened by the blood of many slain enemies.

Gaelan was everywhere, he rushed about the line offering encouragement and his sword where needed.

Minutes stretched into an hour and yet the Morne persisted. Exhaustion took its toll and men fell, too weak to lift their blades in their own defense.

Throughout the attack Sur’kar smiled. He cared nothing for the thousands of fallen Morne. They were merely tools, fodder for his designs.

“Why does he wait?” D’Yana wondered. “He could slay us easily with his power. Why not simply do so and be done with this slaughter?”

From the north east a distant rumble filled the air. A thunderous peal that continued to grow in power. The Morne attack stalled as the Morne turned to see from whence the sound came.

Connell glanced downward and could see that Sur’kar himself had turned. The Ma’ul stood glaring off into the darkness waiting for what ever approached.

Hundreds of Morne rushed northwards, disappearing into the night.

Sur’kar himself is uncertain.” Connell announced. “He sends scouts out to investigate.”

Horns blew and the Morne once more rushed forward. The defenders still held the high ground but a full third of their number were dead. And the Morne ranks had hardly thinned even though two had died for every man lost.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Casius rode between Burcott and Jehnom, the graceful strides of the stag made his horse seem clumsy in comparison. He had heard only a few tales about the men of the forest. But never in his strangest dreams would he have thought to be riding to war with them or the Ahmed for that matter. Casius smiled at the thought, he had seen much in the last few years, things he believed to be nothing more than legends.

Cresting another low rise Burcott suddenly ordered the men to come to a halt. The harshness of his command snapped Casius out of his reverie.

“What is amiss?” He asked pulling sharply at his reins.

Burcott pointed to the next rise several miles in the distance. “There is a darkness upon that crest.” He said. Turning in his saddle he motioned for the warriors to retreat a short way down the slope. “It is the rear guard of the horde.”

Jehnom looked to the sky. “We have an hour to sunset.” He said. “Once darkness falls upon the land the Morne will attack.”

The sun crept lower in the sky until it disappeared behind the mountains. As the last of its golden rays faded the faint echoes of drums and horns sounded in the south.

Burcott called the captains together and with his dagger he drew a crude sketch of the plateau in the snow. “Gaelan will ward this point the heaviest. It is the only easy way to gain the upper reaches, a crude stair carved many centuries ago.” He drew a small line intersecting the plateau rim. “The sides are climbable but with defenders above a foes losses would be dire.”

“What of the south?” The Sahri asked. “Could Sur’kar not simply split his forces and come at them from behind?”

“The walls are much more sheer.” Burcott answered. “Besides a dense forest wards the approach. A foul wood of old trees that hampers any attempt at entry.”

Jehnom arched an eyebrow at Burcott’s last statement. “There is such a place in my homeland, dark and foreboding, even the Taur Di dare not venture too far into it.”

“There are those among my kind who have kept the old ways, only a rare few have ever laid eye’s upon the Forest Lords.” Jehnom said in awe. “For an outsider you have been blessed.”

“If there is a Wood King in that forest, and he is awakened.” Casius said pointing to the map. “You can rest easy, for no servant of Sur’kar could safely pass through it and live.”

“What of our own men?” Burcott asked.

Casius shrugged. “That I do not know.”

Jehnom shook his head. “ I would not tempt fate,” He advised. “The Forest Lords serve their own purposes. We could receive the same welcome as would the Morne should we try.”

“No amount of planning will grant us victory Lord Fullvie.” The Desert King said with a sad smile. “We have not the strength to do so. There is but one chance, a slim one at that. Casius must slay Sur’kar, once that happens then the Morne will crumble. It is his will alone that holds the tribes together.” The Sahri leaned back. “Besides who can stand and fight after witnessing their Gods demise?”

“There is the Ma’ul to consider.” Jehnom reminded them.

“We need only distract him long enough for me to reach Sur’kar. Once he is slain any hold he had on the creature will be broken.” Casius answered.

“And once that link is severed?” Jehnom continued. “Will the beast go mad and destroy us all?”

Casius rolled the band of braided gold upon his finger. It had served him once of its own violation, he prayed it would do so again. “That is a risk we face.”

Burcott smiled, it heartened him to see such bravery in one so young. “Then here is what I propose.” He spoke quickly outlining a plan that was rife with risks.

It did not take long for the men to get into formation. Word of the plan had spread and the option to leave was afforded each man. To everyone’s amazement not one warrior chose to leave.

The Ahmed marched directly towards the enemy’s rear, each warrior bearing a small skin drum. They formed a long line several ranks deep. The front row bearing swords while the men behind armed themselves with javelins.

The Mounted warriors rode out to the east and concealed their passage by riding behind a series of low hills. They came to a stop less than a mile from the Morne; hidden behind a low ridge they awaited the signal of the Ahmed.