by Brad Clark
They had halted their horses at the edge of the forest that led up to Neffenmark Castle. The terrain dipped into a valley between them and the castle. The trail of hundreds, or even thousands, of Karmon survivors, led out of the forest, through the village, and into the castle.
“It looks like they made it to the castle,” Marik said.
“How many?”
“Hopefully all of them,” Marik said.
A deep booming sound came from the forest behind them.
“What is that?” Ilasha suddenly asked.
Marik let out a sigh. He had heard the sound before when the goblins marched on Tyre. The drums of the goblins announced that they were closing in on them.
Marik replied, “That is the sound of war coming.”
They both kicked their horses into a canter. Side-by-side they rode down the gentle slope from the forest and then up towards the village. The main street of the village was a muddy, sloppy mess, but their horses had no problem churning their way through it.
As they approached the castle, a tall figure in a black robe stood atop the wall. He gave a wave as he recognized the riders.
Marik smiled and waved back to Hargon.
They continued through the two large wooden doors of the main gate into the castle and came to a stop in the courtyard. Hundreds of armed soldiers were drilling and training. Many were firing crossbows and longbows at targets, others were practicing their swordplay.
As he dismounted, a knight ran up to him. At first, he did not recognize the face, but then he smiled.
“Sir Gossmire!” Marik called out. “It is good to see you.”
“Well met, Sir Marik,” Sir Gossmire replied. “You have arrived none too soon.”
The sound of drumbeats reached them, carried by a stiff wind from the east.
They both turned to look through the great wooden doors of the castle’s gate. A team of men were pulling the doors shut. Just before they closed with a loud thud, they saw the first ranks of goblins come running out of the trees.
Marik turned to Sir Gossmire and said, “I have a weapon that might help.”
“So have we. Come.”
Sir Gossmire led them up a flight of stone stairs to the top of the wall. A small handful of crossbowmen and archers were crouched behind the battlements all along the wall, their weapons ready to fire.
“There are so few defenders,” Marik said. He looked down into the courtyard where there were hundreds of more archers and crossbowmen. “Should they not be called to the walls?”
Sir Gossmire did not answer. He looked down the wall towards Hargon, who stood alone, some distance from them. Marik followed the knight’s gaze, unsure what Hargon was doing by himself, exposed to enemy arrows up the wall.
“Should he not be under cover? Do the goblins not have archers?”
“He will be fine,” Sir Gossmire said.
“But they are pouring out of the forest! Should we not get more archers up here?”
Sir Gossmire put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Just wait.”
They did not have to wait long. As many hundreds of goblins came running down the hill, Marik felt an electricity in the air. He looked at Hargon, who held his hands above his head. One hand held an open book. Hargon began shouting, but words that seemed meaningless gibberish.
With a thunderous roar, the air around them seemed to crackle and sizzle. A great force exploded out of Hargon’s free hand. Moving faster than their eyes could follow, the force struck the goblin horde, sending bodies and body parts scattering for miles. The entire side of the valley, which had once been filled with goblins running for the walls was suddenly cleared of any goblins. More goblins continued out of the forest, undeterred by the death of so many of their own. Once the next wave of goblins reached the bottom of the valley, Hargon again spoke his spell, sending the nearly invisible force at the goblins, exploding their bodies and sending them scattering with the wind.
Hargon dropped to a knee. Marik could see his chest heaving heavily. He wondered if the former emperor was about to fall over, but instead, Hargon stood and looked at Marik. For a moment, Marik thought he saw a darkness in Hargon’s eyes, but then the former emperor smiled and gave them a quick wave.
“That is our weapon,” Sir Gossmire said. “The tide of the war has changed.”
***
Farrus looked back over his shoulder, feeling the strong pull from the Web of Magic. It wasn’t only the strength of the power that surprised him, it was the fact that he could feel the direction that it came from. To the east, he could barely make out the tall peaks of the White Mountains as they were but a haze on the horizon. It had been many days since the army had marched around the mountain, suffering through a major snow storm that froze hundreds of the goblins dead in their tracks. Somewhere, among those mountains, someone, or something, was drawing great power from the Web of Magic.
His hand absently went to the leather pouch that hung from his neck. Inside was the black multi-faceted gem that was one piece of the Ark of Life. For a brief moment, he thought he might be feeling the power of the other piece of the Ark of Life. However, the power that could be brought forth through the Ark of Life was many times greater than what he felt. Whoever, or whatever, was tapping into the Web of Magic to cast such powerful spells would make for a reasonably tough adversary, but certainly, would not stand up to him with the Ark of Life in hand.
Once Gregarious returned with the necklace his power would be complete, and he wouldn’t need the army of goblins that marched before him. Anyone that dared stand before him would be crushed into oblivion. Cities would be brought to rubble, flattened to make room for his own dominion.
He turned his back to thoughts of what might be happening in the east. Gregarious was a capable general and would handle any threat that he came across. In front of him was a sea of goblins that stretched across the rolling plains of the eastern provinces of the Taran Empire for as far as he could see. Pulled from the bowels of the earth, they scratched and clawed their way towards the Taran city of Iseron.
A line of Taran Centurions had stood in their way, but they were trampled over without so much as a thought. They did nothing to stop the advance or protect the citizens of the city. The only thing they did was provide fodder for the ravaging horde of goblins.
Iseron was just the first small obstacle in the path of his army. Soon, his army would march farther west towards the capital city of the Taran Empire. Tara City would be much more of a challenge, as it was many times larger and constructed mostly of stone buildings. Stone Ogres would be called forth to help tear down the city, as the goblins would do little to stone buildings. By the time his army reached Tara City, panic would have spread across the empire. There would be nowhere to run, as his goblin army would continue to grow until it covered thousands of acres.
Once the Human’s greatest army fell, the rest of the world would be for his taking.
About the Author
Brad Clark grew up in the modestly sized city of Grand Rapids, Michigan, but now resides in a small town in the southwest corner of Michigan. He works as a software engineer at a local family-owned software company.
Reading and writing have always been his passion, but the stories that were jotted down into piles of notebooks never made it beyond a chapter or two. Somewhere between coaching youth sports and all of life's great adventures, a full-length novel happened to get written. After much nagging from his wife and kids, he broke down and published his first novel as an e-book. With a renewed passion for writing, he dove into the fantasy genre to start the epic fantasy series The Champion Chronicles.
As much as he has a passion for reading and writing, Brad is also an avid road bicyclist and runner. Springtime is running season as he prepares for an annual half-marathon. Summer, though, is his favorite time where he can spend hours riding his bike on quiet back country roads.
With five kids, two still at home, writing is a way to escape from the busyness of life. His
stories come from his love of the genre and from his heart. Whether the stories work for the rest of the world is not why he writes, he writes because he simply wants to put his dreams on paper. He never wants his writing to be work, he only desires it to be a fun hobby and hopes that others can share in his stories.
Brad can be followed on Twitter @booksbybrad or found on the web at www.booksbybradclark.com.
Table of Contents
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the...
The Champion ChroniclesKnight FallLast KnightForever Knight Knight Fire
If it weren’t for the encouragement of friends and family, I never would have gotten this far. ...
Prologue
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter TwoThe Flying Narwhal
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
About the Author