“It is well traveled.” He said catching his breath. “By horse and cart alike, some of the tracks are less than a few hours old at most.”
“Then there is danger here.” Suni said eyeing the road with disdain. “With the noise from the mountain a hundred horsemen could come upon us without warning.”
Marcos could see the merit in Suni’s caution. “We stay just within the tree line using the road as our guide.”
Reluctantly they returned to the darkness within the trees. Although open sky of roiling clouds and thick ash were disturbing to look upon, the smell of the tormented plant life was far more disquieting to their senses.
The way ahead became more passable the further south they ventured. The thick tangled mass of vines thinned and eventually disappeared altogether. The grim trees grew further apart making the deep wood well suited for travel.
Twice they dropped low to the ground as horses thundered past along the nearby roadway. Suni’s caution had been correct. They had had no warning, only when the horses were almost upon them did they hear the hoof falls.
Casius watched the riders pass through an opening in the dense foliage. Once they had gone he sat up and shook his head. “Men and Morne working together.” He said in disgust.
“Fear of Sur’kar does indeed make strange allies.” Marcos commented brushing dirt from his soiled stained clothing.
Over the rumblings of the Mountain a strange hissing sound could be heard, growing louder with each passing mile.
The trees ended abruptly upon the shore of a small lake. The water was as dark as midnight and steamed fitfully in the gloom. A thick scum of yellow algae clung along the muddy bank, rising and falling with the gentle waves.
The water spanned half a mile to the blackened roots of the mountain. In its center a huge geyser of the black liquid shot skyward, rising over a hundred feet before falling back to the lakes surface. Beyond the erupting water they could see the roadway hugging the mountains base.
“The source of the river Tharlas and birth place of the Ravenslaugh.” Marcos said.
“I never would have thought to have seen such a sight.” Yoladt said in wonder.
“Few free men have.” Casius commented. “If any have they never returned to tell of it.”
“Aye,” Connell added. “And neither shall we if we are seen gawking like fools out here in the open.”
“Do we dare follow the road?” Casius wondered. “Or try and cross it?”
Marcos shook his head. “That would be unwise, the stain of our enemy goes deep in this land. To touch the waters so close to Trothgar’s poisoned aquifers could lead to madness and death.” Marcos pointed along the eastern bank. “The road has its own dangers as well, we will follow the shore until it turns southward once more.”
With a final look to the inviting road Casius followed his companions along the muddy bank and into the darkness of the wood.
The lake was small and within a few hours they came to a shallow ravine where the water of the lake roared southward in a swiftly flowing cataract.
They followed the gully keeping well clear of the brittle stone that lined its edges. The old lava was heavily eroded and riddled with cracks; massive gouges in the bank were stark evidence as to where the rock had failed before.
After two miles the trees abruptly ended where the road met the river. Across the hard packed earth the forest continued on.
Darting across the open ground they reached the shadows of the wood undetected. The hour was growing late and they began to search for a suitable campsite. Shortly before sunset they found a low knoll of dry earth. Rising above the soggy loam of the wood they would be able to rest in relative comfort. A thicket of dense brush bearing wickedly long thorns blanketed its western slope offering them some protection.
Connell stood upon the crown gazing upward through the canopy.
“What are you looking for?” Casius asked while trying to find a comfortable place to sleep.
“The sky grows darker the closer we come to Thraldur.”
“Well above those clouds night is falling.” Casius commented.
“There is perpetual night over Sur’kar’s keep.” Marcos said entering the conversation. “It will aid us in our approach.”
Connell looked away and rummaged through the nearly empty pack he had carried from the lands of the Mahjie. He found only a few bites of stale bread. He ate them and tossed the pack aside.
Their supplies were nearly gone, low on both food and water Connell knew they would never make it back to the eastern Kingdoms with what remained.
It was a long night, each man taking his turn at watch while the others slept. Casius paced about the hilltop listening to his empty stomach grumbling.
The forest had come alive, there were fell creatures moving within the trees. The sounds of combat echoing loudly in the darkness. At times they would draw near the hill but none dared venture up its sides to see what was encamped up there. The scent was foreign to the beasts and only the wary stayed alive long within Havoc’Mor.
With the coming of dawn they were on the move once more. At the hills base they found strange tracks. Large with deep gouges created by long claws, they led off to the north.
They traveled cautiously throughout the day. The tracks found in the morning added to their wariness. With every passing mile it grew darker.
Strange lights flickered through the trees ahead, as they approached they could see that it was cast by oil fueled lanterns.
They had come to the end of the forest; ahead of them lay a sizable town. The buildings were fashioned from the dark stone of the mountain. Rough sided without windows and doors, only dark openings that in a few cases glowed brightly from lights within.
Despite the late hour the streets bustled with dark robed figures Morne and humans alike. Unlike other towns its size there were no sounds of laughter or music. Only the monotonous ring of blacksmiths’ hammers could be heard over the rumble of the mountain.
Within the shadow of Trothgar it stood, nestled between two ridges formed from old lava flows. The road they had followed ran through its heart and up the mountainside.
The crown of the mountain was at its lowest, only slightly more than a hundred feet above the buildings. Brilliant light played beyond the rim. Huge gouts of liquid fire jumped skyward lighting the shadows between the buildings before falling back into the calderas.
Beyond the dancing flames and dark smoke the needle thin spire of V’rag could be seen. Standing tall and foreboding within the volcanoes heart. It was blacker than the darkest night. Wreathed in flame with molten stone flowing from some of the parapets, the very sight of it struck fear into their hearts.
Marcos took a deep breath and turned his back to the tower. He walked back into the forest breaking the spell the tower had upon them. The others followed; walking in silence until the village could no longer be seen.
“The way before lies through the very heart of the settlement.” Marcos said once they all were seated. “Sur’kar has brought his craftsmen to his very doorstep. This I had not foreseen.”
“A wise decision on his part.” Suni said. “His gate is all the more guarded and his servants closely watched.”
“How do we get past them?” Casius asked. “The buildings touch the very sides of the volcano, I do not think we can simply walk around them. There must be thousands of Morne and men living there.”
They sat in silence for several moments when Connell slapped his thigh startling them all, save Suni who merely arched an eyebrow at the sudden sound.
“Stealth is not the answer.” Connell said with a grin. “We simply walk through as if we own the place.”
“We would be seen before we covered a hundred paces.” Yoladt protested.
“Aye,” Connell answered. “Seen as would any others in the town.” Connell touched his ash streaked clothing. “Our passage through Tarok nor has marked us, as it has the inhabitants of the town. With the darkness and our Morne clo
aks we will blend in.”
Yoladt sat back his protest dying upon his lips. “Connell is right,” He said after a moments thought. “We can do this.”
Suni looked at his cloak and his gazed traveled over the others. “There is merit in Connell’s suggestion, however Yoladt’s cloak is the color of stone and earth. It will not fool the townsmen.”
Yoladt undid the clasp at his neck and turned the Material inside out. It was lined in a black cloth only slightly darker than the cloaks the others wore. “For stealth at night.” He said fastening the clasp.
Suni nodded in approval. “It is the only option before us.” He said looking to Marcos. “Unless you can cover our approach?”
Marcos shook his head. “That would only hasten our discovery and put an end to our mission. There are things more malicious than Morne and evil men watching over this village. To draw their attention would spell disaster for our cause.”
“Then make yourselves ready.” Connell stated coming to his feet. “Bury the packs here, there little left in them anyways. Wrap your cloaks tight and keep the hoods up. Hide your weapons beneath them, they are unlike any to be found here.”
“Walk with purpose but keep you heads down,” Suni added shoving his pack beneath the sour smelling loam. “Do not make eye contact, move as the villagers do and stay within the shadows.”
They walked in among the buildings. The villagers moved about keeping to themselves each going about their own tasks. Hardly sparing the weary group of men a second glance.
The buildings were crude and depressing. No care had been given to their appearance during construction. They contained no doors or windows, simply dark openings with heavy drapes. The deeper into the town they ventured the larger the buildings became. Until they walked in the shadows of multi storied warehouses and smithies whose furnaces glowed hotly and the sounds of hammers striking steel rang incessantly.
A deep trench ran along the roadway, filled with stagnant water and the contents of chamber pots. The overwhelming odor made the fetid reek of Havoc’Mor seem pleasant in comparison.
As they passed through the open space that served as the town’s center the road began to slope upward, climbing higher towards the flanks of the fiery mountain.
Crossing a low bridge that spanned a fast flowing creek of black water they came to the edge of town. Stopping within the shadows of what appeared to be a slaughterhouse they looked up the long stone causeway that led to a dark cave like opening in the mountainside.
Thraldur, the gate of skulls and the sole entry to Sur’kar’s sanctuary, Casius moved his gaze away from the looming opening.
Shouts erupted behind them, spinning about he watched as several whip wielding Morne drove a group of half starved men out of the slaughterhouse. They were weary and covered with deep bloody welts from the Morne whips.
Casius’s eyes narrowed and his hand slipped into his cloak coming to rest upon Aethir’s warm hilt.
Connell grabbed his elbow and hissed a warning. “Do nothing, lest you doom us all!”
Casius stood at the brink of violence for a few breaths. Coming to grips with his rage he let his hand fall from his blade. He knew Connell was right, freeing the world of Sur’kar would free those men, not an attack that was doomed to failure.
Connell relaxed and turned his friend about. “They will pay.” He said softly, his eyes burning with wrath. “When the time is right.”
Marcos put his fingers to his lips and pulled them around the corner of the building. A gate swung open across the lane and a force of several hundred Morne marched out. They turned sharply to the right and moved towards the town’s center.
Casius breathed a sigh of relief as the gate was closed. “We are blessed to have your ears with us Marcos.” Casius said once he got his beating heart under control.
“Boldness has gotten us this far,” Yoladt said peeking around the buildings corner to watch the Morne depart. “Perhaps it is time for stealth.”
“There is but one path into Trothgar.” Marcos said with a nod to the dark opening. “Once upon the causeway our enemies eyes will be upon us. I’m afraid that there is no other way before us.”
“We are going to simply walk up there and ask for entry?” Yoladt mumbled in disbelief.
“Not we,” Suni said adjusting his cloak. “I.”
Connell stepped forward. “You can’t do this alone,” He said. “Let me go with you.”
Suni looked to the gate. “The gate of skulls is warded, Connell.” He said with an uncharacteristic touch of excitement in his voice. “Grel’in bar the entry.” He turned and faced Connell. “They are a foe for which I have prepared all my life to face. You have never faced one in combat, pray that you never do.”
“He’s right Connell.” Marcos said. “They will not see a threat if one man approaches, this may give Suni the edge he needs to overcome them.”
Connell studied the black opening. Within the darkness he could see the massive iron gates standing open. Beyond them lay a long tunnel whose walls danced with the reflected light from the fires within the calderas.
Before the gate stood three warriors dressed in dark chain mail. The red plumes upon their helms a warning to all, Grel’in hold the gate. Each of the guardians bore a small buckler upon his left arm while the cold fingers of their right hands rested lightly upon the sheathed broadswords at their hips.
“You are right Suni.” He admitted regretfully. “There is no way we can come upon them unawares.”
“Perhaps it would be best to await nightfall?” Yoladt suggested.
“In this land day or night matters little.” Marcos whispered.
“Pressing on now would be best.” Suni said. “There are things that we would rather not meet that move about after sunset.”
Suni looked at his companions. “Come once the way is clear. Move casually, do not rush forward.”
With a nod to Marcos he stepped out of the buildings shadow and boldly strode up the causeway.
Connell began to move when Marcos gripped his shoulder, stopping him. “He is Anghor Shok,” Marcos reminded him. “Your presence will only increase his danger.”
“It will be three to one,” Connell whispered harshly. “He is going to get himself killed.”
“Perhaps,” Marcos answered softly. “But would you insult Suni? He has trained for this his entire life. Do not underestimate him. Watch and learn what the fabled warriors of Anghor are capable of.”
Mixed emotions raced across Connell’s features. He was both angry and concerned for his companion’s safety. It went against his very nature to allow another to take such risks alone.
Yet he had learned to trust Marcos. The Tal’shear was filled with much wisdom. Besides he knew to rush out to join Suni now would only serve to alert the guardians that something was afoot. He only prayed Suni was up to the task.
Suni strode boldly up the causeway. He kept his head lowered hiding his features within the darkness of his hood. Occasionally he would lift his head slightly to check on the positions of the unsuspecting Grel’in.
An odd feeling swelled within his breast, it was excitement. A sensation he had not felt since his early days within the temple. He grunted and forced the emotion aside. He knew that he would need the calmness of a master to succeed here. Halfway towards the gate his breathing slowed as decades of practiced discipline took hold.
Goron Taul watched the lone Morne warrior approach through eyes that were no longer his own. The lunatic ravings of his tortured spirit faded as a thin shred of his remaining sanity returned. There was something familiar about the way the man moved, hinting at a memory from centuries long since past.
His captor became aware of his sudden lucidity and lashed out, dark tendrils of power sought to crush what remained of his soul.
Goron recoiled and fled back to the sanctuary deep within his mind. It was the one place where the usurper of his body could not reach him. Dark power slammed against the walls about him but failed to
breach the core of his being. They had shared several millennia together and Goron had learned to evade the worst of his captors might. He felt his sanity slipping away as the faint stirrings of hope swelled within him. The last time he had ever seen a man move like that it was long ago as he fought on the very plain that this mountain stood upon.
He had watched in awe as the Anghor Shok jealously protected their Tal’shear wards.
A surge of anger filled him as he remembered the foul deeds he was forced to witness. Watching helplessly as his body was taken from him and he turned upon his friends in combat slaying many of the men he had sworn to protect.
Lashing out with a strength fueled by his anger he struck the demon with all the strength he possessed. The demon laughed at his weakness and struck back.
Dark power burned into him fraying what remained of his sanity. Gibbering in pain and fear he retreated into the darkness, his mind all but destroyed. All the while his body stood motionless before the gate, no hint of the internal struggle visible to the outside world.
Suni drew nearer, the guards watching him with unblinking eyes that burned within the shadows of their plumed helms.
Suni stepped off the causeway and onto the rough stone of the tunnels floor. The gate stood before him, the thick black iron plates of its construction gleamed wetly in the darkness. Countless spikes adorned its surface. Impaled upon them were thousands of skulls. Most yellowed with age but there were more than a few that still held tatters of rotting flesh clinging to them.
Suni took all this in with one quick glance. The Grel’in now stepped forward blocking any further progress on his part. “Veh tok amanu!” One of the Grel’in growled threateningly his corpse white hand drawing his blade slightly from its scabbard.
Suni understood the foul language, it was taught him long ago during his early years within the temple. “It is forbidden.” The grim figure had said.
BlackThorn's Doom Page 8
