Asgoleth The Warrior: A Modern Tale of Sword And Sorcery (fantasy fiction books)

by Kirkwood, Bill

  A loud rumble filled the air and the ground trembled beneath the horses hooves as the trap was sprung. Valshin looked back and his worst fears were confirmed when he saw that tons of rock had been released from the cliffs and was tumbling down with crushing force upon the foot soldiers who were still within the gorge.

  Finally the rumbling growl of stone faded away and he saw that the mouth of the gorge was completely blocked and his escape was cut off. Then he saw movement atop the cliffs and he licked suddenly dry lips as thousands of warriors took up their positions. He saw them nock arrows to bowstrings and he knew that he and his remaining men could expect no mercy. He snarled at the Hillman and raised his sword.

  ‘You at least, will not live to enjoy your victory, dog.’

  The Hillman laughed out loud.

  ‘I do not need to you Akonite pig. I have already avenged my slain sons and the name of Nythos will be remembered with honour. Can you say the same about yourself?’

  Then he launched himself from his saddle, his hands outstretched to grab the Akonites throat. Valshin gave an inarticulate scream of fear and rage and brought his sword down in a whistling slash that cut through Nythos’ shoulder, smashing through collar bone and ribs. The force of the blow stopped the Hillman in mid-air and sent him crashing to the ground in a spray of blood as the blade was torn free. He landed in a broken gasping heap on the ground and the life flowed swiftly from him. Even as he died his eyes shone with victory as he looked up at his slayer. Then he gasped and succumbed to death, knowing that he had not died in vain.

  General Valshin spat at the corpse and began to scream orders at his men.

  ‘Form a square and ride for the other end of the valley, move!’

  The Akonites hurried to obey but even as they did so a sinister sound smote their ears. Every eye stared upwards as a long, moaning, whistle became louder and louder. Cries of fear and alarm broke from their throats as they saw the sky grow dark as sheets of arrows flew down at them from the slopes above.

  Then the deadly missiles were among them and cries, curses and screams filled the valley as the Akonites died under that deadly hail. The arrows found every crevice in their armour and men and horses crashed to the ground to be trampled under the hooves of their comrades. The Akonites turned and milled in panic but there was no escape from flight after flight of feathered death.

  Valshin cursed and wept as he saw his army reduced to a smashed and bloody ruin before his eyes. A few managed to break free from the carnage and they galloped away but mounted Torran warriors awaited them and they were swiftly cut down.

  Valshin raised his fists above his head and cried out in rage and anguish. His cry was cut short as a Torran arrow pierced his throat. He stared at the shaft in disbelieving horror, and then he swayed forward and crashed to the ground. He lay there, clutching vainly at the shaft as blood filled his mouth. Then he gave a drawn out gasp and died with his army. The last thing he ever heard was the loud roar of triumph from the throats of his enemies high above.

  A silence fell upon the Valley of the Eagles then. To the victors on the heights above it was a moment to be savoured. Below then an Akonite army lay dead and they had achieved this great victory at the cost of only one man. It was unbelievable, yet there before their eyes lay the truth of what their barbarian leader had said. The Akonites were not invincible, they could be defeated. Slowly men began to make their way down the slopes towards their fallen enemies. There were trophies to be collected.

  Bal Shoteb watched them go then said to the grinning Calthian beside him,

  ‘By mighty Solus, Asgoleth, your trap worked. If I had not seen it with my own eyes I would not have believed it. How did you know they would come?’

  Asgoleth replied,

  ‘They were arrogant fools, Bal Shoteb. They were so secure in their might that they believed the tale I had poor Nythos tell. They thought there were only a few thousand ragged and hungry wretches opposing them. They were too confident of victory. Well their arrogance cost them dearly this day.’

  ‘What now, Asgoleth?’

  Asgoleth grinned at his friend.

  ‘Now we press home our advantage. We must move against Demos before he learns of this defeat. Send some men to see if there are any survivors among the Akonites. If there are, put them to the question. We must find out where he intends to strike now that his hellish weapon is ready. If we can take him by surprise we may well be victorious again.’

  Bal Shoteb nodded in agreement and told off some men to carry out the Calthian's commands. Agoleth urged his mount on and Bal Shoteb turned his horse and rode beside him as they made their way towards the caves where the women and children had been placed for safety. Amira would be delighted at the news of this victory and would be anxiously awaiting them.

  As they rode they were surrounded by cheering warriors. All around them men raised their weapons in salute as their leaders passed. Bal Shoteb grinned widely and waved back at them but Asgoleth did not. He knew that very soon he would have to order these happy, cheering men into battle once more and many of them were going to die. Demos would not be destroyed as easily as Valshin had been. He was a cunning and evil foe and it would cost many lives to bring his plans of empire to destruction.

  Asgoleth sighed; he did not relish the heavy weight of responsibility that had been placed upon him. He wished that he was once more just a simple mercenary soldier. Free to throw himself into the bloodlust of battle with responsibility to on one but himself. Free to gamble and jest around a campfire with his comrades. He sighed again. Temporarily at least, those days were behind him now. He had taken on this job and he would do his best to lead the Torrans to victory; when he had done so he would head off in search of fresh adventures. The world was wide and full of lands and peoples he had never seen. Out there lay mystery and excitement and, who knew, perhaps a kingdom of his very own.

  He was brought back to reality by a slap on the back from Bal Shoteb.

  ‘Wake up, Asgoleth! The Princess Amira awaits your report.’

  Asgoleth grinned at his friend.

  ‘Then by Ragnar's beard, I shall not keep her waiting, come.’

  He spurred his horse forward and soon they arrived at the entrance to a large system of underground caves.

  He saw Amira run from the cave towards them and he grinned as he leapt down from his steed and strode towards her. Bal Shoteb came clattering up behind him and Amira checked her headlong rush as she remembered who and what she was. She was no longer just a frightened girl. She was the Princess Amira, the future queen of the people all around her and she must behave as such, even though all she wanted to do was throw herself into Asgoleth’s arms. She drew herself up regally but she could not keep the tremor out of her voice as she asked

  ‘What news of the battle, my lords? ‘

  Asgoleth, mindless of her royal dignity, swept her up and swung her around like a child then he set her down and cried out,

  ‘Hear me now! This day the Torran army has won a great victory. Our enemies lie slain in the Valley of the eagles and soon their master will be dead too. We are victorious!’

  Cheers and applause greeted his words and Amira cried out,

  ‘Thank you, Asgoleth. When word of this victory spreads, men will flock to serve under our banners. Torr will be free again and it will be thanks to you.’

  Asgoleth held her at arm’s length and looking into her eyes he saw the devotion shining in them. He knew at that moment that she and her realm were his for the asking if he so chose. He could be a king and his name would live on in song and legend, all he had to do was ask. He tore his gaze away, he was not ready to be a king just yet and besides, when he decided he was, he would take what he wanted. He looked at the happy faces all around and said,

  ‘Hear me, people of Torr. The victory today belongs not to me but to a man named, Nythos. He it was who gave his life to lead the Akonites into our trap. He and others like him destroyed the enemy. More like him will die before t
his war is won but they will not have died in vain. Nythos knew the value of freedom from tyranny. He rode into that valley today knowing that he was going to die but that did not stop him.

  He did this because he was a Torran and he wanted Torr and its people to be free. I lead our soldiers but it is they and they alone to whom you will owe your thanks when victory is ours and have no doubt in your hearts, victory will indeed be ours as long as we have men as brave and noble as Nythos among our ranks.’

  The crowd burst into roars of approval at his words and Bal Shoteb slapped him heartily on the back.

  ‘Well said, my young friend well said!’

  Amira was in his arms once more and the cheers grew louder as she kissed him with fierce passion. Asgoleth groaned inwardly. He had meant only to impress upon them the knowledge that they held their destiny in their own hands. He had done so but somehow he had made himself an even greater hero to them. He was almost glad to be disturbed by the urgent voice of the warrior who came galloping up to him.

  ‘My lord, I bring grave news. We learned from the prisoners that even now, Demos is on the march with an army of thirty thousand men.’

  Asgoleth and Bal Shoteb glanced at each other in dismay. Their own army numbered only fourteen thousand men and many of them were poorly armed.

  ‘Where is he headed?’ Asgoleth demanded. The warrior replied.

  ‘Toward the Draskian border, Valshin's men were to meet up with him after we had been destroyed and together they were going to invade and conquer the Draskians. Even with the men he has left he may still succeed.’

  With that hellish weapon of his, powered by the Heart of Ra, he would succeed Asgoleth thought. Then the Draskians too would suffer as had the Torrans unless the tyrant was stopped before he reached the border. Asgoleth pursed his lips in thought then said,

  ‘Return to the valley and summon the commanders here at once. Order our men to don the armour and weapons of the dead and hold themselves ready to march at a moment’s notice. Go!’

  The warrior turned his horse and galloped away to relay his orders and Bal Shoteb shook his head.

  ‘We will be hard pressed to defeat an army more than twice our strength, Asgoleth.’

  ‘Not if we have the advantage of surprise on our side, my friend.’

  ‘What do you mean? How can we possibly take him by surprise?’

  Asgoleth grinned and said,

  ‘There is a way and with a little luck my plan will work and we will be rid of Demos for good.’

  ‘But…!’ Bal Shoteb was silenced by Asgoleth’s upraised hand.

  ‘Wait until the commanders arrive. Then we can work out the details.’

  Asgoleth took Amira by the arm and walked with her into the caves. Bal Shoteb stared after them in bewilderment. He knew that Asgoleth's quick and agile mind had come up with a plan. He just hoped for all their sakes that it was a good one. Shaking his head he followed them into the caves to await the arrival of the Torran commanders.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Demos sneered at the glittering ranks of the Draskian army drawn up in its battle lines to oppose him. He saw doubt in the faces of his own men for the Draskians had been forewarned of the Akonite advance and had had more than enough time to mobilise their entire army. Unlike the assault on Torr, this time there would be no element of surprise. No toppling towers to demoralise and cow their foes.

  The Draskian army outnumbered the Akonites by at least ten thousand men and they were confident that they could repel the invaders.

  The two armies faced each other across the wide, shallow, Red River that marked the border between Torr and Drask. Soon now, as it had many times before, its waters would run truly red with the blood of the fallen as two armies merged together in savage conflict.

  There was no doubt on the face of Demos as he stared at their glittering, confident, ranks. The Draskians were there in such force because he had arranged it so. He it was who had sent word ahead into Drask to warn them of the Akonite advance. He knew that the Draskians would rush to defend their borders and so they had done. There before him waited the full military might of a proud land ready to give battle. He felt like laughing out loud at the fools.

  Ordinarily it would have been a daunting sight but not to Demos this day. He wanted them just where they were. When he unleashed the power of his Deathbringer, their army would wither and perish and with their finest soldiers destroyed the people of Drask would be helpless before him. Word of his power would spread to other lands and all would learn that it was pointless to resist him.

  He patted the shining assembly of crystal and steel that composed the Deathbringer and smiled a ghastly smile as he looked upon the Heart of Ra embedded deep within it. Such power it held; power enough to destroy all his enemies and make him master of the world.

  He turned his attention back to the Draskian army and waited. He knew that the Draskian king and his generals would soon give the order to attack. They would be sure that the Akonites, outnumbered as they were, would have no choice but to fight defensively. They would be confident of victory over their arrogant, foolish, foes. Suddenly the harsh blare of the war horns rang out and now Demos did laugh out loud as the Draskian infantry surged forward.

  Into the wide, shallow river they ran, their weapons glittering in the sun and their war cries ringing from their lips. The Akonites on the opposite bank braced themselves to meet the charge and many cast anxious glances back at their terrible commander. When would he unleash his great power against the enemy?

  Demos watched the Draskians cross the river. Saw their heavy cavalry trotting close behind the infantry, awaiting their moment to charge forward and smash the Akonite ranks into red ruin. At last he looked at the Heart of Ra and concentrated the evil power of his mind upon the glowing jewel. The glow grew stronger and stronger until the entire weapon pulsed with ruby hellfire.

  Then a beam of light leapt forth from the thick central rod of the Deathbringer. Straight towards the Draskian infantry and mounted knights it sped until it struck among them with the force of a thousand thunderbolts.

  In seconds the Draskian advance was brought to a halt as men and horses perished in the blast. The surviving infantry looked back in horror as their heavy cavalry was wiped out, men and horses reduced to smoking piles of charred bone and melted armour.

  Again and again the beam lashed out and where it touched men died. Against such sorcery the Draskians knew they could not prevail and one by one and then in hundreds men threw down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. They had no desire to lose their lives and perhaps their souls as well to black sorcery such as this.

  Some however were not easily cowed and Demos frowned as he received a report that his left flank was coming under heavy attack. He snarled angrily,

  ‘Fools, don’t they know they are beaten?’

  He snapped an order to the messenger,

  ‘Return at once to your commander and tell him to withdraw towards me. When he lures the enemy within my sight I shall destroy them.’

  The messenger galloped off and Demos cursed and resumed his attack upon the Draskian cavalry who, unlike the infantry, continued to regroup and charge again and again. Inspired by their courage many of the infantry picked up their weapons once more and charged back into the fray.

  Now his own men were taking casualties and Demos snarled in fury at the Draskians insolence. He sent blast after blast of devastating destruction into their ranks but despite this the Draskians fought on and many an Akonite fell to their frenzied assaults.

  Sweat poured down the tyrants face as he slew his foes, then disturbing news reached him. Those who had attacked his armies left flank had suddenly withdrawn before coming within sight of him. They had learned quickly that terrible as this unholy weapon was, it had limitations. If Demos couldn’t’t see you, he couldn’t slay you.

  They swiftly adapted to their new tactics of hit and run and soon were taking a heavy toll of Akonite lives. Demos snar
led with fury as he saw the looks of fear and doubt on the faces of his men. Unless he could defeat these Draskian scum soon he would start to lose, not only the battle but the fear in which he was held by his subjects.

  If they saw that he could be defeated, that his magic was not invincible, then they would eventually rebel against him. He could keep control of his generals he knew but soon their soldiers would start to desert and without an army to command, what use would his generals be?

  He cried out in frustration and anger as he realised that no matter how great his magic was, he still had to back it up with force of arms. If he lost control of the army, if they faded away into the night, then with them would go all his dreams of empire. He could not let that happen. He would not allow himself to be beaten by these Draskian scum.

  He fought off his growing fatigue and brought his will to bear on the Heart of Ra which pulsed and glowed within its crystal and steel cage. He called upon the mighty power of the unearthly gem and it responded to his commands by sending out bolt after bolt of destruction. Men died where those bolts touched and the air was full of screams and smoke and the stench of burning flesh but no matter how many he slew their place was taken by others, all of them determined to stop the Akonites here at the border. They had heard the horrible stories of what had befallen Torr under their rule and they were desperate to prevent the same thing from happening to their homeland. Despite the mighty and terrible magic of their sorcerer king the Akonites were going to pay a terrible price for conquering Drask.

  A sudden charge by the Draskian cavalry succeeded in breaching the Akonite lines. The riders laid about them with their long sabres and heavy spiked maces to deadly effect. Akonite warriors fell to the blows of their enemies and began to stumble back, away from these mounted madmen.

  Demos cried out in rage and struggled to bring the Heart of Ra to bear on the battling men. A wave of dizziness swept over him as fatigue began to exact a heavy toll from him. He leaned against the weapon for a moment to regain control and as he did so he wondered where general Valshin and his troops were. He was supposed to have met the rest of the army here at the border when he had destroyed the Torran rebels. Had he been defeated? Demos shook his head, he couldn’t’t believe that the Torrans had prevailed over a large, well armed, Akonite Army. No, Valshin would arrive soon and then these Draskians would be defeated.