BlackThorn

by DeWayne Kunkel

  Marcos nodded in satisfaction, “Even now the wood seeks to cleans itself.” Marcos grew silent; he felt an alien awareness at the edge of his perception growing stronger. It was incredibly old and malignant; the pure malevolence of it assaulted his senses. “We must flee,” he gasped, breaking off the mental contact. “Our enemy has sensed my use of power and the hunters are racing this way.”

  They needed no further urging, with reckless abandon they climbed down off of the Tor. Reaching their horses after what seemed an eternity they sped off to the north.

  The path before them grew narrow and dark the trees no longer parting to allow them passage. They rode hard for the better part of an hour.

  Marcos feared for the horses, their strength needed to be conserved. He allowed his mount to slow to a walk. He could see Casius looking at him from the corner of his eye.

  “Questions?” He asked turning in his saddle to look at the young man.

  “You have within you the power to destroy the Troll,” Casius said cautiously. “Why did you not simply do so?”

  Marcos nodded in understanding. “Do not judge me too harshly young man. Suni was capable of handling the Troll. Casius, the power I wield is known as the Phay’ge, and it has limitations. It is the power of life and creation. I cannot use it to cause a death. To do so would expose me to the influence of the Na Phay’ge.

  “That is the source of Sur’kar’s strength. As night follows day, then death follow life. The Phay’ge has its darker half; the Na Phay’ge is the antithesis of life.

  “It corrupts even the noblest of men, should I open myself to it I will become that which I fear the most. A willing servant to Sur’kar.”

  “You can sense our pursuers through their use of the Na Phay’ge?” Casius pressed.

  Marcos shook his head. “No I am blinded to such power, to sense it you must know its touch. Sur’kar and his minions have no such liability. They know the Phay’ge and have rejected its limitations. What I did at Glin’eress sent ripples through the fabric of creation, as if I had thrown a large stone into a still pond. It is this that drew our pursuers attention.” Marcos’s eyes grew distant as he felt for the dark presence that was growing nearer. “What seeks us now is not bound by the Phay’ge or Na Phay’ge. It is something far older and stronger, from a time before creation and order. I can feel its might tearing at the fabric of the world.”

  Casius shuddered, “Then what is it?”

  “I do not know,” Marcos answered. “There were many powerful beings in the days before light. They were overthrown by the creator and banished. The fact that one wanders free from their netherworld prison disturbs me greatly.” Marcos rode in silence for a short while before speaking once more.

  “Sur’kar’s eye has marked us all,” he announced. “I wish it were otherwise but I am certain of it.”

  “Just what do you mean by marked?” Connell asked, his conversation with D’Yana ending at Marcos’s remark.

  “Suni and I were known to him,” Marcos answered. “D’Yana as well for she has shared in our venture for two years now.” Marcos looked at Casius and Connell. “You were marked as well for he sent not one but two Naz’Haruk after you long before we met. He fears something in you Connell, the same thing that made me seek you out I assume.”

  “What would Sur’kar fear from us?” D’Yana asked. “You have your power and knowledge, but Connell is a swordsman.”

  “Sur’kar fears death,” Marcos answered her. “He craves power and dominion, in death he would have none.”

  “Isn’t he dead already?” Connell asked. “Did he not die in the breaking when the hammer fell upon Trothgar?”

  “One as powerful as my foe does not easily die,” Marcos answered. “The evil that Sur’kar is servant too has anchored his spirit to this world. His body was ruined by So’san’s act but his spirit did not move on. He left the devastation of his seat of power and fled to the wild places in the west. After three millennia he has grown strong once more and has returned to his kingdom.

  “There are those that worship him as a god, the reptilians known as the Morne. They serve him blindly and are the fodder of his armies. Their clerics proclaim him as the storm god reborn and the tribes are uniting under his bloody banner.”

  “The Morne are not idiots,” Connell said. “They are a fierce and often barbaric people. Do not some resist his call?”

  Marcos nodded, “Some do, but heretics die horribly on the altars of Sur’kar. There are fates that are worse than death, even to the brutal Morne.”

  The Sun set and the forest’s glow died, leaving them walking their mounts through the oppressive darkness. Marcos desired to move on, but it was too dangerous. In the pitch dark of the wood they could easily become separated and hopelessly lost.

  They settled in for the night upon a low ridge crowned with thick thorny brush. Suni took the first watch allowing the others to catch what sleep they could in the coolness of the evening.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was during the darkest hours of the night that the forest grew strangely quiet. A deep hush that was broken by the whistling wind in the tree tops high overhead.

  Marcos sat apart from the others, his senses tuned to the wood. He could feel the strength returning to the trees. A subtle awakening was taking place, as Asua Tuell grew stronger and more aware.

  The menacing presence he had felt was growing nearer with each passing hour. Marcos was concerned for it was tracking them, altering its passage to follow their progress.

  As dawn approached the glimmer in the trees began to awaken pushing back the darkness. Marcos stretched and jumped to his feet. The presence suddenly was gone, snuffed out as if a candle blown by the wind.

  He knew it was yet there, but now it was concealing itself from him. Marcos tried in vain to find it, whatever this creature was it knew how to hide its presence.

  “Wake quickly,” he commanded to the others shaking them in their sleep. “Danger draws near and we cannot tarry.”

  They were riding in minutes, the concern in Marcos’s eyes adding to their haste. They rode as fast as they could and yet remain quiet.

  Through the gloom they pressed crossing small rills and climbing steep embankments.

  Marcos led them to the fallen bole of one of the largest trees of the wood. Its trunk was bone white and devoid of bark. A thick mat of green moss grew along its top. They circled around the giant’s remains and took shelter in its shadow.

  The horses were growing agitated their eyes rolling in fear as they sensed something dire growing nearer. Marcos touched each of the horse’s muzzles. They calmed and stood still their eyes growing distant as if they bordered on sleep.

  “Stay silent,” Marcos whispered. “No matter how frightened you become do not move or speak. If you do we will be discovered and our lives will be in jeopardy.”

  Marcos walked a tight circle around them, his ring emitting the faintest of glows. Barely visible in the forest’s light the ring left a ribbon of pale light surrounding them. After a few moments it faded and was no longer perceptible.

  In the distance they could hear the sound of cracking branches and heavy footfalls. The sounds grew louder as whatever was making them closed the distance.

  The forest darkened and a sense of dread hung in the air. A roaring crash sounded nearby as one of the massive trees fell to earth. A wave of intense heat swept over them bringing with it the smell of burning flesh.

  Casius closed his eyes, he leaned his head against the fallen bole. Struggling to remember Marcos’s warning. The fear was overwhelming; it tore into his mind tearing at the walls of his reason. He wanted to scream and flee, to run away from the cause of such primal terror.

  The ground shook violently and a deep guttural roar caused him to jump. He bit his cheek using the pain to help him focus his self-control. His heart pounded, he could hear the rush of his blood in his ears. Another horrific roar tore through the air, sending loose bits of earth falling down from th
e trunk behind which they had taken shelter.

  Casius felt as if his heart was being torn in two, the terror rending both body and soul.

  As suddenly as the feeling had come it was gone. The ground shook and trees crashed to earth in the distance. What ever it was that had caused such fear was now leaving. Destroying any tree that stood in its path.

  The metallic taste of copper filled his mouth. The burning pain of his cheek brought him out of his panic. He swallowed the fluid in his mouth and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Opening his eyes to the brightening wood he was surprised to see the toll the aura of fear had taken on D’Yana and Connell.

  Connell smiled and touched D’Yana’s hand reassuringly. She gave him a quick nod and with shaking hands she adjusted the braid in her hair.

  Marcos breathed a sigh of relief, “We are most fortunate,” he said in a soft voice that was barely a whisper. “I was able to conceal us from its eyes, it pursues a shadow of my power I cast westward. It will not last long but will buy us some time.”

  Suni sheathed his staves, once again he appeared to be unaffected by what had just occurred. His face was impassive, no sweat of fear beaded on his forehead.

  “Were you not frightened?” Casius asked amazed at Suni’s composure. He needed to talk, something to take his mind off of the memory of the terror that had held him.

  Suni looked at him, as if puzzled by the question. “I do not fear death Casius,” he replied. “The trials of blood teach us to control that which would inhibit our actions.” He nodded his head to Marcos. “You would do well to trust Marcos.”

  “Do you?” Casius asked in response.

  “I am Anghor Shok, I trust no one.” Suni’s impassive gaze hardened slightly. “If you or any of your companions would threaten Marcos I would be forced to kill you. Such is my duty, for I have taken the oath of the nine blades and have withstood the trials of blood. Long ago upon the scarlet steps of Sorvahk Gohn I became Anghor Shok, defender of the last Warder. I live only to serve Marcos, my life holds no value other than this service.”

  “What are the trials of blood?” Casius asked, amazed that Suni had said more to him in one breath than he had since they first met.

  “Since before the breaking, my people have journeyed the world protecting the warders. It is the greatest honor to have won the right to swear the oath of service, and to be named Anghor Shok.

  “The Jhed Adar, are holy men among my people. After many years under their instruction they select the most promising of warriors for the Trial. It is by combat our skills are judged.

  “To become Marcos’s guardian I slew twenty men.” Suni said without emotion. “Before that I crippled a hundred more. Only the final challenge is to the death.”

  “That’s barbaric.” Casius said appalled that such a practice was allowed to continue.

  Suni merely arched an eyebrow at his outburst.

  Marcos gripped Casius’s shoulder leading him away from Suni. “Do not mock him,” He warned softly. “Their lands are high in the mountains, life is often short and harsh for his people. To the Anghor, honor is everything, besmirch it at your own risk.” Marcos patted his shoulder. “Not all men live by the same code of ethics as yours.”

  Casius thanked Marcos for his advice, he found Suni staring off into the forest. “I feel I must apologize, I had no right to criticize your ways.”

  Suni turned his dark eyes onto the young man. “It is barbaric, but the world is an unforgiving place. At times the strength of a man’s heart is all that stands between failure and success.”

  Casius relaxed he knew his apology had been accepted. “It was my heart that failed me when the Troll attacked.”

  “There is fire in you Casius,” Suni said. “You stood your ground where many a man would have fled screaming. It is only the skills you lack. The difference between fear and bravery is the sense of knowing what to do, and the will to attempt it.”

  He watched in awe as Suni turned away and effortlessly climbed the nearest tree. Casually walking out onto the lowest branch, the Anghor Shok eyed the way ahead.

  “He must be above ninety feet,” Connell remarked coming to stand beside Casius.

  Casius nodded, “One wrong step and it will be his death.”

  Marcos chuckled at their concern. “He is Anghor Shok, they do not fall.”

  After a few minutes Suni climbed down out of the tree as easily as one would descend a broad stair. “The way to the north looks to be clear. There is a large track heading west and many of the trees are scarred by heat.”

  “We have waited long enough,” Marcos said mounting his horse. “Let us ride as far as the remaining daylight will allow us.”

  They took flight to the north, moving at a swift pace across the forest floor. Weaving among the great trees Marcos drove them onward. Even to Casius’s eyes the wood was changing. There was a subtle difference in the trees. They seemed more alert; it was as if a thousand eyes watched. Here and there a small branch would reach out and caress Marcos’s robe as he rode past.

  They rode hard throughout the afternoon, resting the horses only briefly. The ground became rougher and they were forced to slow their progress. Large boulders littered the forest floor. Scattered about the landscape as if they had been simply tossed onto the ground by some uncaring giant.

  It was late afternoon when Marcos suddenly stopped; reining his mount in he spun the horse to face southwest. Holding up his hand for silence.

  Something had tickled his awareness, a feeling of wrongness that tugged at his perceptions. Now that he had stopped he could feel nothing. He sent his perception into the forest and moving along their intertwined roots and branches he found what he was seeking.

  Less than a mile away, the trees knew terror. A being of smoke and fire moved slowly among them. Searing bark and boiling sap with abandon. The terror of the trees was such that Marcos was forced to break off contact and cling to his saddle to stay mounted. His eyes flashed deep purple as he shouted, “It is near!”

  Turning his horse he kicked its sides urging it to run as fast as its weary legs could carry them. Through the ferns they raced, leaping over the lower boulders and dashing around those that barred their way.

  They went perhaps a hundred yards when a wave of sheer malice hammered into them. The ground shook and strident horns rang out.

  The hunters now gave chase; harsh barks joined the din as the pack of Fell hounds was released. The massive war dogs had found their prey’s spoor and with slavering maws they craved to rend flesh and crunch bone.

  The horses could now smell the hounds, foam flecked their sides but they ran for their lives, with great chest heaving with each breath.

  In the forests perpetual gloom Casius could see a bear sized animal approaching from the right.

  It was long and lean, standing six feet at the shoulder. Its pelt was gray in color with dark bands across its back. The head was wedged shaped with a powerful jaw. Two huge canines, thirteen inches in length trailed streamers of saliva. The eyes of the beast were deep set and milky white, with a catlike pupil.

  The Fell hound attempted to slash Casius’s horse’s legs with its fangs. At the last instant the horse leapt to the side, nearly throwing Casius. The hound’s teeth struck the ground. With a startled yelp it flipped over with the force of the impact. Rolling over it was on its feet in an instant and with a startling burst of speed it closed the gap to Casius’s mount.

  Casius had used his moment of reprieve and had drawn his sword. He let the horse have its head, confident in the animal’s instinct to follow Marcos’s lead. Closer the Fell hound charged, its muscles pumping beneath its pelt. Its long claws tearing deep holes in the loam as it tried to overtake the horse.

  The horse was tiring and the Fell hound snapped at Casius’s legs. Before the fangs could find his flesh Casius’s sword struck its head. The force of the impact stung his hand and for a brief instant the blade was lodged in the hound’s skull. With a desperate jerk he freed th
e weapon in a spray of dark blood and gore.

  The hound rolled, stopping in a heap of twitching limbs. Connell’s horse leapt clear of the body. At his command it lashed out with its rear hooves. Striking its own pursuer in the head. The strength of the blow shattered the Hounds neck killing it instantly.

  Casius glanced back over his shoulder. He could see D’Yana and Connell riding side by side their swords flashing in the dim light. Behind them raced at least a dozen hounds, and in the distant shadows he could see the charging hulks of Rock Trolls.

  Casius’s heart sank; he could see no way that they were going to survive this. He did not dwell on this thought long. From his left one of the hounds leapt into the air its fetid maw seeking to remove his head.

  Casius ducked, bringing his sword up he opened its foul belly. Loops of entrails spilled outward and gouts of bile and blood splashed over him. The hound was not dead but it would soon die. It thrashed about on the ground wailing in agony. Staining the foliage with its blood.

  Ahead of them the golden light of the afternoon sun shone through the trees. With their pursuers falling behind they raced into a large clearing filled with lush grasses and wild flowers of almost every description.

  The Sun’s light beat down upon them warming their faces. Marcos led them to the clearings center where a single massive stump covered with flowering vines stood.

  “We make our stand here,” Marcos said dismounting. He patted his weary steed’s neck while tying the reins to the stump. “The forest will aid us.”

  Connell looked back to the tree line where the feral eyes of the Fell hounds glowed within the gloom. “They’re hanging back,” he announced.

  “They have no love of the light Connell,” Marcos said. “To some of the dark servants the light is deadly. To the Fell hounds it is merely an annoyance. They will come, and our wait will not be overly long.”

  Connell dismounted, he left the black unfettered. Taking his bow in hand he stood with the stump at his back. “If they are going to come,” he set an arrow to string. “Then lets thin the pack a bit.” He let the shaft loose. The arrow flew straight and found its mark in the head of one of the hounds. It was a long shot but Connell’s skill with the bow was formidable.