The Fell hound dropped, it had died instantly the barbed shaft driving deep into its brain. The other hounds milled about in consternation but they made no move to attack or retreat.
D’Yana smiled grimly and dropped another hound with her bow as well.
They succeeded in killing a total of five before the remaining six were called away from the danger by the harsh blat of a Trolls horn.
In the darkness among the trees stood at least ten of the giants. The sun reflected dimly from the odd assorted pieces of armor they wore. The hounds paced among them snarling, anxious to set their teeth in the flesh being denied them.
“Why do they wait?” Casius asked, his palms growing sweaty with fear.
“They wait for their leader,” Marcos answered gravely. “The unknown horror, which has stalked us from Glin’eress.”
For more than two hours the standoff continued. The Trolls spread out encircling the small clearing cutting off their chances at escape.
“The sky darkens and yet the make no move,” Connell commented. “Where is this leader of theirs?”
“It is near, closer than you think. It is merely waiting, savoring the fear that we feel.” Marcos drew his sword, the light of the dying sun gleaming along its gold colored blade.
In the gloom a Troll shouted, a harsh guttural sound.
One of the Fell hounds charged its patience at an end. Its lips were curled back exposing its mouth of frightful teeth. It made four leaping bounds when Connell’s arrow pierced its throat. With a bubbling howl it fell dead.
“It seems that they are growing restless,” Connell said readying another arrow.
Before anyone could reply the ground trembled. The acrid smell of burning wood tainted the air and rolling plumes of dark smoke emerged from the trees to their right. The Trolls squealed and ran to clear the area.
“It has arrived,” Marcos announced needlessly.
The ground continued to shake; heavy and ponderous the footfalls of the unknown creature rattled the clearing. Branches snapped and one of the giant trees burst into flame. Within the smoke and fire a massive form began to emerge.
Casius nearly screamed as the full force of its aura of terror slammed into him. He dropped his sword and scrambled to retrieve it. Through the roar of his blood in his ears he heard Marcos shouting.
“Stand fast, do not give in to your fear!”
Through the tree line it stepped, a demonic being that nightmares were made of. It stood on four cloven hoofs that burned the ground where they touched. Its head rose thirty feet above the forest floor. Crowned with four ebon horns wreathed in a mane of blazing fire that reached far down its back. The eyes were burning orbs of flame within a skull like face.
The demons skin cracked and peeled as it moved each opening spouting a short-lived burst of fire. The powerfully muscled torso of a man was fused to the body of a gigantic bull. In its right hand it held a long spear made entirely of flame, in its left it clutched a length of golden chain that was secured to a thick manacle about its wrist. A searing wave of heat blasted out at them, forcing them to protect their faces with up flung arms.
One of the Trolls stood too close to the beast and suddenly it burst into flame. Screaming in agony raced through the clearing, falling to its death a few feet from the tree line on the opposite end.
“Ma’ul…” Marcos muttered.
The Ma’ul roared, its mouth a hideous furnace from which fire and smoke jetted.
Connell fought his fear and fired an arrow. Aimed for the monsters forehead. The shaft flared a brilliant golden color as the heat surrounding the beast turned it to ash.
The Ma’ul reared to its full height and roared in fury at the puny man’s insolence. The fiery mane flared brighter and a new wave of heat exploded outward from it.
Marcos warded off the heat with sheet of fiery power from his ring. “Your time is past!” Marcos shouted in anger. His eyes burned with power, the very ground on which he stood was aglow. “Return to the prison prepared for you in the first days.”
The Ma’ul stepped forward and with a wave of its arm it sent the golden chain crashing into the ground. The earth bucked violently and the horses screamed while their riders fought to keep their feet.
The Ma’ul roared pulling its fetter from the soil. A huge smoking trench marred the grass, its end only a scant few inches from where Marcos stood.
Marcos never flinched; he stepped over the trench and raised his hand. The golden band flared until it was brighter than the sun. “Be gone spawn of darkness,” Marcos commanded, in a voice that shook the ground.
Beyond the trees the Trolls recoiled in fear, they could feel the might of the man who stood before the fire demon.
The Ma’ul gripped its chain tightly and with a powerful heave it sent the golden links down onto Marcos. The chain burst into a thousand fragments as Marcos deflected it with his might. The explosion of force knocked the Ma’ul back a few paces.
The Ma’ul’s flaming orbs flared in anger. Grabbing its spear tightly it charged seeking to run its opponent through.
Suni had had enough and he drew his staves and ran to Marcos’s side.
Marcos saw Suni’s approach, “Back!” he shouted.
Suni was lifted into the air and thrown back a dozen feet by the force behind Marcos’s words. Marcos spun and thrust out his hand. Brilliant fire shot forth and struck the Ma’ul in the eyes.
The Demon screamed in anguish, dropping its spear, it clawed at the blinding light.
Suni was stunned and it took him a moment to recover his senses. As he climbed to his feet a sharp cracking sound came from the stump.
Casius and the others jumped aside as the stump suddenly tore itself free from the soil. Roots writhed and twisted forming powerful limbs. The stump took on the form of a giant its head created from knotted roots and large stones. Two branches erupted from it forehead, becoming thick horns that curled upward.
The giant towered over them and with lumbering steps it charged, building up speed until it slammed its shoulder into the Ma’ul’s chest. The two giants rolled onto the ground pummeling each other. Wood burned and bones cracked. The Ma’ul screamed in fury and pain. Blinded by Marcos’s magic it was vulnerable and it felt the pangs of fear for the first time in countless ages.
From the forest edge the Trolls screamed in terror as the trees came suddenly to life. Powerful limbs grasped the intruders lifting them high into the canopy. The Trolls were ripped apart, limbs still twitching with the remnants of life rained down onto the loam. The Fell hounds yipped in fear, gnashing teeth tearing at the branches that sought to ensnare them. They too were carried aloft to their death.
“Mount quickly,” Marcos urged. “The forest has awakened a Wood King in her wrath.”
The frightened horses spun about seeking to flee the clearing. Fighting for control of the terrified mounts they bolted northward into the line of swaying trees.
Through the wood charged a multitude of animals. Bears, wolves and great stags ran side by side, their eyes afire with rage. The wave of animals parted, passing the fleeing riders on either side. Attacking without caution the forest denizens threw themselves onto the Demon pulling it onto the ground by the sheer weight of their numbers.
Casius caught a fleeting glimpse of the Wood King clenching the Ma’ul’s throat. Its back was ablaze and the wood of its arms burned brightly. Animals died in the heat of the fire by the hundreds and yet they attacked heedless of the flames awaiting them.
Into the trees they passed, and rode unhampered for several hours before they were forced to rest. The horses stood on trembling legs, sweat lathering their heaving sides.
In the distance they could hear the sounds of combat. Resembling the rumbling of a summer thunderstorm. The two giants continued to assail one another, shaking the very earth with their vehemence.
“We were most fortunate,” Marcos commented. “I had thought the last of the Wood Kings to have passed from this world.”
> “Wood King?” D’Yana said looking to Connell for an explanation. The swordsman merely shrugged in reply.
“Long ago, there was one solitary tree upon the earth.” Marcos answered. “The first seedlings were not bound to the soil as are their offspring. They wandered far and wide spreading their seed to all the lands of the world. When their work had finished they returned to the soil.
In times of dire need they would rise up and defend the wood from harm.” Marcos rubbed his eyes, clearly exhausted from his confrontation with the Ma’ul. “This is the tale taught to men by the forest, before the trees banished him. To the best of my knowledge we are the only Humans and Tal’shear to have ever seen one.”
“Will the Wood King prevail?” Casius asked concerned for the strange ally they had found in the forest.
Marcos considered the problem for a few moments before answering. “I do not know,” he answered honestly. “Both are ancient beings of immense power.” Marcos said rubbing his goatee in thought. “No matter who the victor is we need to move quickly in case the Wood King fails.”
“Aye,” Connell said in agreement. “But the horses are nearly spent, to ride them further today would be folly.”
“Then we walk,” D’Yana suggested. The disturbing echoes of combat sounded too close for her liking.
“Until late afternoon,” Connell patted his massive horses sagging neck. “A nights rest will do us all a world of good.”
Suni led the way once more and it was only a short while later that they found a narrow track leading due north. Giant trees bordered the trail their lower branches forming an arch of thick leaves overhead. The sounds of combat faded until as they sat in their dark campsite only the faintest rumbles could be heard.
Marcos stood alone facing the south his senses turned to the clearing where the titanic struggle was yet taking place.
“Any change?” Connell asked walking out of the gloom.
Marcos shook his head. “I cannot sense them clearly, the forces at work are formidable. It is akin to staring into the sun to watch the flight of a distant falcon.”
“You used your power to free the tree.” Connell continued changing the subject. “The Ma’ul sensed it and attacked. What of Sur’kar? Can he not feel it as well?”
Marcos nodded, “Perhaps, if his senses were turned this way. But it does not matter; he knows where we are, for if it was his power that released the Ma’ul then he must control it. Other wise it would go on a destructive rampage that would not suit his goals. The Ma’ul felt the power and it was Sur’kar that forced its attack.”
Connell turned and looked back at the sleeping forms of D’Yana and Casius, of Suni he could see no sign but he knew the warrior was nearby guarding them. “We don’t have much of a chance for success do we?”
“No,” Marcos sighed. “Long ago I stood upon the lush plains before the armies of Sur’kar. I was younger then and full of power, but even standing with my brethren, we were no match for his evil.
“Sur’kar is not restricted in his use of power. He has become a pure manifestation of all that is evil and it has given him almost godlike powers.
“In fact, to the Morne he is known as the storm god and is worshipped fanatically.”
“The sword you seek will be enough?” Connell asked full of doubt.
Marcos shook his head, “Not by itself.”
“How then do we get close enough to Sur’kar to make use of it?”
“That is my task,” Marcos said somberly. “While he deals with me it is then that you must strike.”
“Can he not simply strike us down?” Connell said in anger, he could see no way that they could succeed. “We wont even get the chance to strike a blow.”
“Sur’kar will not pass up on the chance to capture me and turn me into one of his servants,” Marcos said knowingly. “He will make my death slow and painful, until I am nothing more than one of the Balhain.”
“You speak as if you know him well.”
“I do Connell,” Marcos answered. “At one time he was a Warder, before the evil turned him. I served the land at his side in those days.
“I only showed you a small part of what I have witnessed Connell. Sur’kar and the two Balhain were all warders in those times. The evil took Sur’kar and in turn he enslaved the twin brothers that stood among our strongest members.
“Gre’Doth and his brother Gre’Koth were lured away from the path by Sur’kar’s serpent tongue. With half-truths and promises of power he burned away their will and enslaved their spirits. They are forever banished to the shadows, the touch of light a poison to them.” Marcos stopped speaking as a low rumble shook the ground. Causing the trees above to shed a small amount of leaves. “The battle continues,” he said needlessly.
Straightening his robe he turned and walked past Connell. “I’ve said too much Connell,” he smiled apologetically. “Dawn will be here in a few hours and we must travel far. Go get some rest, Suni will keep us safe.”
“Doesn’t he ever sleep?” Connell asked, searching the darkness once more for some sign of the Anghor Shok.
“Rarely,” Marcos replied settling down on the loamy soil. “The Anghor Shok are not like other men.”
“No one here is exactly what they seem.” Connell quipped sarcastically.
During the night the sounds of battle had lessoned, and only rarely did they hear anything of the monumental contest.
Twelve long days they rode, following the path provided for them by the forest. Without warning they found themselves passing beneath the canopies edge. The bright afternoon sun stung their eyes and warmed their faces. The sky overhead was mostly clear with only a few light clouds in the east. A low grass covered hill stretched away to the north. At its crest stood a thick grove of birch trees surrounded by thick brambles.
The hilltop afforded them a view of the land ahead. Rolling fields of wild grain dotted with thick copses of trees and small ponds reflecting the sky above. It was late and at Connell’s suggestion they made camp within the stand of birch trees. Using his sword Connell hacked a pathway through the firethorn bushes and brambles.
Casius had little experience with the colorful thorn bushes; he soon learned however that within the plants, beneath the leaves of ochre and gold lay long wickedly barbed thorns. Bone white in color, they inflicted a burning pain that would last for hours. He sat rubbing his palm, waiting for the pain to lesson. It would be a long time before he would ever try and handle one of those branches.
Connell built a small fire and made a thin stew of dried beef and a few small leeks D’Yana had dug up. “It’s the last of our supplies,” he said grimly. “Parin lies twenty or so miles to the north, across mostly open country. Perhaps we will sleep in proper beds tomorrow night.”
“What?” Casius exclaimed. “And miss the luxury of sleeping on the hard ground.”
His sarcasm brought laughter to the weary travelers. Even the normally stoic Suni grinned briefly.
Marcos stood with his guard a few paces away from the others. “These are brave people, Suni.” He said softly. “Despite all that has befallen them and the dark path that lies ahead, they still find it within them to laugh. With hearts such as these there is yet hope for mankind.”
“They will need this strength before these days are passed,” Suni replied before taking his place on watch.
Marcos joined them in their frugal meal as the sun set in a sky of vivid red and gold.
Chapter Sixteen
Gaelan rushed out of the tower fumbling with the leather chinstrap to his steel helm. Behind him Burcott was cursing as he fought to pull on a gauntlet. Once outside they could hear the strident calls of horns ringing in the pass. Two men stood nearby holding the reins to their horses. Torches blazed along the walls casting long shadows across the bailey.
The keep was alive with running men. Awakened from their sleep the warriors were quickly taking their places along the battlements. Those atop the wall were leaning out over the merlo
ns straining to see what was occurring in the pass.
Gaelan swung up into his saddle and blew into his numb hands. From the moon’s position he judged the hour to be two past midnight. “Raise the portcullis!” he shouted over the din of running men in armor. “Burcott, this waking me with grave news is becoming a habit.”
“I’ll send a comely bar maid next time.” Burcott grunted as he pulled himself up into his saddle.
Gaelan looked over the assembled mounted men who formed the reserve. One hundred in number they sat in orderly ranks the torchlight gleaming from their polished armor. They were ready, no fear shone in their eyes only grim determination.
“Balar!” Gaelan shouted to a giant of a man standing upon the battlement. “You’re in command until our return, seal the gate behind us.”
Balar saluted his clean-shaven face beaming with pride.
Burcott smiled, “Mind you don’t lose the key little brother!”
Balar grinned, “Mind you keep your head on your shoulders old man!” he yelled in response.
“Lets go!” Gaelan led the mounted charge out of the keep. The echoing horn blasts from the pass would not allow them any further delay.
Once through the portcullis the men upon the wall let lose a great cheer. So loud was their cry that the mounted men could not hear the gate slamming shut behind them. Hooves thundered against the stone, echoing from the cliff face. The warriors raced into the narrow confines of the pass. Their equipment jingled discordantly over shadowed by the sharp blats of the distant horn.
The dim moonlight reflected in bright flashes from the lances held by the men. Beneath their helms their eyes burned brightly. The excitement of the charge driving away any discomfort from the freezing night air.
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