“I will carry this blade to Tarok nor, into the very heart of Trothgar and the iron tower of V’rag.”
The Mahjie gasped, all but their leader. She smiled sadly and nodded her head.
“I intend to slay Sur’kar and put an end to his evil.” Casius finished speaking, the look in his eyes dared anyone to challenge his choice.
“The blade is the bane of Sur’kar.” Marcos said stepping forth placing his hand on Casius’s shoulder. “For this purpose was Aethir forged.”
The Se’estra nods her head. “This is known to us, Marcos.” She sighs sagging down onto her throne. “The first Seh’ja has failed in its duty.” Lifting her aged head she looked to Yoladt. “Will the second take on their duties?”
Yoladt stepped forward and kissed her hand. “We shall blessed mother.”
“The way ahead is beyond my sight, fraught with danger beyond our knowledge. Do you accept this task willingly?”
Yoladt nods his head in affirmation. “The hidden ways are known to my house. They have been passed from father to son without change since our vigil began, we will not fail.”
She placed her hand upon his forehead. “May the wisdom of the father steer you from harm.” Turning her face towards Casius she spoke firmly. “Thoron’Gil guide your hand, wielder of Aethir.”
Casius ducked his head in response to the blessing.
“Do not forget us Casius,” The Se’estra continued. “The price of our guardianship has been the doom of my people. We will fade as our purpose has been taken away from us.”
“I shall not Se’estra,” Casius answered. “While your long task has ended mine is just begun.”
“Go then,” The Se’estra smiled sadly. “Yoladt’s men will see you to safety.”
Yoladt spared one quick glance at the fallen Stilgart. With a savage yank he frees Casius’s knife from his skull. Handing the blood encrusted blade to Casius as he passed heading for the stair leading down the face of the ziggurat.
Thousands of Mahjie lined the narrow thoroughfare falling to one knee as they passed.
“They honor you,” Yoladt commented. “The sword bearer is Thoron’Gil reborn to my people.”
“Nonsense,” Casius said dismayed by how few children stood among their number. The Se’estra was right. They were a dying race. “I am the same man I was when I walked through the dawn gate.”
Yoladt raised an eyebrow at Casius’s remark. “Are you so certain?” He asks. “Outwardly little has changed, save your eyes. They’re darker now and there is both power and peril brooding within them. The young man I led before the Se’estra would have hesitated to stand against Stilgart.
Casius shot the man a sharp glance before changing the subject. “How many of your Seh’ja shall guide us?” He asks hoping the number would be few.
“Three plus myself shall suffice.” Yoladt answered. “My Seh’ja will assume the protection of the Se’estra, the danger to her is great should any of Stilgart’s men be poisoned by the same vitriol that flowed through his mind.”
Casius nodded, he remembered the looks of open hatred Stilgart’s followers had given him when he stood over the slain warriors corpse.
Upward through the tiers of the Seh’ja’s they trod, rising high above the steaming lake and the ringing bells. The Crowd had long since ended and now only three Mahjie stood before the archway leading to the world beyond.
They Carried spears with long swords on their waists. Each bore a heavy pack upon their backs. On the ground at their feet lay five more, one for each member of the party and Yoladt as well.
“They’re quick.” Casius commented looking at the supplies.
“My Seh’ja has such packs always prepared,” Yoladt answered. “We selected from our number those that were to guide you on the first leg of your journey, should one of you pass the test of Aethir.”
Yoladt introduced them to the waiting warriors. “The oldest is Calriss,” He said pointing to a man in his mid thirties with dark hair and deep-set eyes. “The twins, Aithas and Anthail.” The identical warriors bowed in respect. “These are the best that the second Seh’ja has to offer.”
Yoladt lifted his pack from the ground and tucked his arms through the straps. “Grab a pack,” He suggested. “We should not tarry overlong.”
“Best advice I’ve heard all day.” Connell grunted lifting a pack from the ground.
Yoladt nodded to his warriors and they led the way through the arch into the tunnel beyond that opened to the outside world.
Casius looked at the twins and shook his head.
Marcos walked at his side and saw the motion. “Something amiss?” He asked.
“No,” Casius chuckled. “I can’t tell them apart, I hope their honor will not be offended should I call one by the others name.”
Marcos smiled reassured by the evident strength of Casius’s character. “I should think not,” He said. “You are the sword bearer after all.”
Yoladt slowed his pace and come alongside them. “The honor of the Mahjie is not so easily bruised, Casius.” He said having overheard their conversation. “Besides, even their own mother has doubts when they stand together.”
Casius was grateful for Yoladt’s sense of humor.
They stepped out of tunnel and wrapped their cloaks tightly about them. The ice-cold wind blowing across the glacier was a shock to their system. They had become accustomed to the warmth within the massive cavern.
Yoladt led them across the glacier following a path only he could perceive.
“My Seh’ja has a hidden shelter within the dawn stair.” Yoladt announced once they were safely in the high valley. He pointed to the narrow cleft in the rock face at the valley’s head. “We must hurry,” He urged them onward. “The hour grows late and darkness comes quickly in these mountains.”
Casius looked to the reddening sky as they walked briskly through the vale. He had not realized how late the hour was, though the deep shadows in the valley should have caught his attention.
Yoladt produced one of the silver orbs from within his cloak. It’s soft light illuminated the fissure as they descended the crudely cut stair sheltered within it.
Staying within the sphere’s light they moved cautiously down the rough steps. At the end of the fissure the steps ended becoming a narrow trail hugging the side of the mountain.
Yoladt stopped a few feet from the opening and pressed a shadowy recess in the rock. The stone slid and slowly swung inward. Revealing a narrow opening through which he entered holding the orb before him.
Casius followed, he had to walk hunched over for several feet until he stepped into a large chamber whose ceiling was lost in shadows. Across the chamber a large tunnel led deeper into the mountain. From its disquieting darkness came the sound of dripping water.
Casius walked towards the tunnel his curiosity drawing him forward.
Yoladt stopped him by grabbing his arm. “Do not wander, that way leads to a deep chasm and sure death to the unwary.”
Yoladt released his arm and uncovered another sphere, which was set upon a large boulder, hidden beneath a heavy quilt. Unlike the one in his hand, this orb was a full foot across and flamed brightly once it was uncovered. The growing light filled the chamber and yet it’s ceiling remained lost in the gloom.
Calriss was the last to enter the cave, the wind whistling as he closed the hidden door behind him.
Casius shrugged off his pack and held his hand out to the sphere. “It gives off warmth as well as light.” He said in surprise. “How is such a thing possible?”
Yoladt shrugs his shoulders. “I know not.” He answered. “The Illuminai were fashioned by the third Seh’ja long ago. The secret of their construction is jealously guarded and held by only one man. Sadly he died before he could pass it on to his eldest son.”
“Has anyone ever broken one open?” Connell asked.
“There isn’t a boy alive who hasn’t tried.” One of the twins answered setting his pack upon the ground. “They ar
e unbreakable, the old masters fashioned them well.”
“That is well,” Marcos interjected. “They are of an old science, long abandoned by my race. The secret of their construction could lead to weapons so destructive they could destroy the world.”
Yoladt looked at Marcos questioningly. “Then the Se’estra was correct to call you one of the old ones. Though born without eyes her vision has never erred.”
Marcos nodded. “I am of the Tal’shear, your Se’estra is a woman of great wisdom.”
“Then I will accept your word that the secret of their construction is dangerous.” Rummaging through his pack Yoladt produced a bundle of dried beef and flat bread. “Eat and rest,” He said spreading the food around. “The way to Tarok nor is long and dangerous. With little shelter to be found.”
Casius took only a few bites of food before falling fast asleep, his hand resting upon the dark swords hilt.
Connell moved to sit next to Marcos. “He seems different,” He commented looking at Casius. “Will he be alright?”
Marcos looked at Casius before answering. “Much has happened today.” He said. “The responsibility is dire, not many could face it and remained untouched.”
“He will not bear it alone.” Suni stated in his typical flat manner.
Marcos was surprised by his guardian’s statement. “Suni,” He said drawing the Anghor Shok’s attention. “Although you have sworn no vow of service, I want you to ward him. Should the choice ever come upon you as to his safety or mine you must save Casius.”
Suni’s eyes hardened and he set aside his food before answering. “I will not break my vow.” He said sternly. “No Anghor Shok has ever set aside his oath and I shall not be the first.”
“To allow his death would doom us all.” Marcos responded. “Have no doubt, if he falls we are all doomed. By preserving him you will be redeeming me, and all that my life has stood for. Even should I fall as a result of your choice your vow will remain unbroken.”
Suni said nothing for several long moments as he thought about what Marcos had just asked of him. “It shall be as you ask.” He said with no sign of emotion betrayed upon his face. But no one doubted that a fire of anger raged within him, held in check by the sheer power of his will.
They passed the evening in relative comfort, though the orb radiated heat it did little to warm the cold hard stone upon which they lay. Sleep came quickly to the travelers; the Mahjie lasted several hours longer speaking softly about the road ahead.
Suni watched them long into the night until they too lay down to rest. He remained awake, his task now doubled with two charges to watch over. He sat near the door his back pressed against the stone. He spent the night pondering what Marcos had said. No matter what choices he would make from this moment onward, his vow had been forever changed.
Chapter Two
On the fifth day of the siege the Morne attacked once more. Charging forward in the predawn hours beneath a lethal cloud of arrows, they gained the walls foundations with horrendous losses.
The men atop the fortification concentrated their arrows on those Morne who bore grapples and ladders. The Morne died by the thousands but they pressed on. When it appeared that their advance had slowed, the ranks parted and hundreds of Rock Trolls lumbered forward.
The giant brutes slammed the crude ladders against the wall and held them in place with their immense strength. Arrows bit deep into their flesh but they ignored the wounds and prevented the ladders from being toppled.
Morne rushed upward and were cut down by the swordsmen on the rampart. A distant horn sounded and the giants clambered up to the rampart.
The men fought valiantly but the trolls swung huge cudgels that swept them from the walls. The great eyes of the Trolls burned with hatred and joy as they killed any man foolhardy enough to stand before them.
The knights of Ril’Gambor charged forward under Prince Jerudan’s direction. They slammed into the giants and with hammers and maces they held the line, slowing the troll advance.
“We have to drive them back!” Prince Gaelan shouted to his men. “To the ladders!” He cried leading them in a charge to aid the knights.
Where the giants had gained the walls the Morne followed. The fighting was furious. The enemy had captured the southern half of the wall, pressing towards the tower at its center.
Men died by the hundreds, brave warriors crushed by the devastating blows of the giants.
The armor worn by the knights was affording them some protection from the cudgels, but only if it was a glancing blow. A direct hit crushed the steel and the fragile body within it.
Gaelan watched in horror as Jerudan took a savage blow to the chest that lifted him from the rampart and sent him sprawling onto his back a dozen feet away. His breastplate was torn open revealing the quilted padding beneath.
Men hurried to the Princes side and pulled him to safety. Stunned and badly bruised he slowly gained his feet.
“Are you alright?” Gaelan asked rushing to his side.
“I should be dead.” Jerudan gasped still catching his breath. “My father’s smiths forged this steel well.” He said fingering the ruined plate in amazement.
Three giants burst through the line and charged directly for them.
Gaelan and Jerudan fought side by side. Their weapons a silvery blur in the early morning gloom. Their blades struck often cutting deep bloody gashes in the Trolls’ thick hides. The Trolls grew enraged and despite their wounds they pressed forward.
Gaelan was forced backwards; his feet became entangled in a discarded grapnel. Stumbling to keep his balance he fell onto his back his sword knocked from his grasp by the cudgel-wielding giant.
The giant leapt forward its massive club raised for the killing strike.
Gaelan raised his arm in a futile effort to ward off the blow.
Lord Hurin slammed his shoulder into the Troll’s chest with such force that both he and the beast were carried over the parapet, plunging to their deaths amid the chaos at the walls base.
Gaelan had no time to mourn the loss of a trusted ally. Snatching up his sword he gained his feet in time to meet the charge of another giant. His arms burned with exertion and sweat stung his eyes. He knew he was no match for the charging monster.
The Troll closed the distance in three giant strides. He grinned wickedly exposing a mouth full of broken and twisted teeth.
His single eye widened in surprise as a white fletched arrow embedded itself in his forehead. With a groaning gasp the creature fell dead at Gaelan’s feet.
Gaelan rushed to Prince Jerudan’s aid, one of the giants had his back forced up against the wall. Jerudan fought valiantly but he was pinned and the Troll was seeking to force him over the edge.
Holding his sword with both hands, Gaelan swung with all the might he possessed. The blade struck true cleaving deep into the Troll’s back severing its spine with a loud crack.
Jerudan dodged the lifeless body as it fell forward and over the edge. “We cannot hold!” He shouted to Gaelan. “Even with Wolhan’s bow at our defense we will lose this wall.”
Gaelan looked up to the tower. He could see King Wolhan precariously perched upon a merlon. The old warrior was firing his bow as fast as he was able. His accuracy was phenomenal, dropping many of the Troll’s with only one shot.
For every Troll he killed another took its place. All along the south wall the Trolls were gaining ground on the defenders, the sheer weight of their numbers forcing the beleaguered men backwards.
“Call the men back to the tower,” Gaelan ordered a nearby bugler.
“We will now see if your plan works Jerudan.” He said watching in satisfaction as the men retreated backwards.
As the men crossed a line drawn upon the flagstones with chalk a hail of flaming arrows fell from the tower overhead.
The Trolls retreated, swatting at the flaming darts that managed to stick in their hides.
More arrows fell and among them clay pots filled with a thick o
ily substance the knights had fashioned. The clay shattered on both Troll and stone, covering them with a burning mass that could not be easily extinguished.
The Giants screamed in agony, many fell off the wall as they tried to run from the flames.
More arrows and pots fell, spreading the fire further into their ranks.
Below the walls the Morne cheered thinking their comrades had set the blaze. Their cries of jubilation died out quickly as one after another burning body fell down among them.
Gaelan raised his sword and led the charge of his men into the giants as the fires began to die off. The tie of the battle had abruptly changed. The badly burnt and blinded beasts stood no chance against the rallying men. They were cut down by the hundreds, the siege ladders tossed aside and the grapnel ropes cut as the men reclaimed the wall as their own.
The last giant fell and its smoldering corpse was hurled from the wall. With a sickening thud it fell among the Morne.
Upon the fields below the Morne retreated in shock. Blundering giants fleeing the fire-wielding humans trampled many of the warriors beneath their feet as they sought the shelter of the grottos within the wood.
Silence filled the comb, the defenders too tired to celebrate their costly victory.
Gaelan walked the length of the reclaimed wall, taking in a full measure of their losses. When he returned from his task King Wolhan and Prince Jerudan knew the losses were terrible by the look upon his face.
“They will lick their wounds for today, but will return come nightfall.” King Wolhan predicted. “Your idea saved the day Prince Jerudan.” The old King bowed his head in respect.
The young warrior from Ril’Gambor shook his head. “Nay good King, it was the heroic deeds of the men upon this wall that preserved us. Selfless acts such as Lord Hurin’s will be remembered long after we are gone.” He said looking to the rampart were the Lord had plunged to his death.
“We will not fail.” Gaelan vowed softly, thinking of the quiet man who had long warded the north. “I refuse to allow his sacrifice to be in vain.”
BlackThorn's Doom Page 2
