Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,63

smashed the pedestal, sending the stone flying into the air.

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Olani fired her crossbow and watched the quarrel glide into the carnage below. It found its mark in the forehead of a Neshing warrior. He howled and his familiar spirit shrieked with glee as it disappeared.

“Quite a shot, young lady,” Sooth-Malesh said.

“My father taught me.” She reloaded her weapon.

She watched the painted warriors of the South wade into battle, slashing and kicking, rolling over Neshings only to be pulled to the ground by ghostly familiars. Drith’s twin, Gyrn, led more warriors into the fray. Olani noticed that he had painted himself to look just like his brother: a curious decision. Olani surmised that those leading a fight must dress in certain colors, although there was much she didn’t understand about the South.

She took aim again, and a fireball screamed straight at her. Dropping her bow, she pulled back. A shield formed around her, and the fire exploded upon impact on the barrier. Olani looked over at Sooth-Malesh: he’d protected her from certain death.

“I owe you my life.”

“You own me nothing. You have saved me too, believe it or not.”

Boulders roared over them, crushing stone arches and collapsing a bridge. Soldiers tumbled to their death. Olani fired again, as did the hundreds of other bowmen around her.

Down below, the battle raged. The sounds of war were deafening. Cardoon soliders emerged onto the batllefield. Axemen, swordsmen, and warriors with halberds rushed from the city’s hidden side gate, pressing through the waves of creatures.

Repitlian riders swept the field, their own weapons catching men in the face, and throat, crushing helmets, tearing ears, and ripping cheeks. The reptilian mounts bit into Southern warriors, tossing them into the air. Tails swung hard, cracking ribs.

Neshing mages took position on catapults and other war machines, launching fireball after fireball. They even ignited the boulders that were slung into the air. Southern warriors attempted to overtake the catapults and mages, but even their ferocity was no match for the dark magic that reduced their bodies to ashes.

Stone and fire assaulted the city’s gates, but the great doors held.

Gyrn saw a rider decapitate another of his brothers. The deed moved him. His body seethed, and he leaped through the air, tackling the rider.

The Neshing swung and nipped at him, its familiar raked its wraith-like fingers across his chest. Gyrn howled in a mixture of anger and pain. He dodged the spirit’s next slash, but the Neshing host seized him by the throat. Gyrn spat in its face. He jerked his blades up, tore open the creature’s chest, and then pushed down, running it through. He felt the ghostly claws tickling the back of his bald head before vanishing.

Gyrn jumped up and mounted the lizard steed. It bucked to shake him off, but he held strong, charging it toward the Neshing’s ranks. He led dozens of yelling men behind him, both Southern and Cardoon.

Galloping on, he caught a glimpse of mages, catapults launching fiery boulders, crossbow quarrels falling. He let out a war cry, and charged.

A pair of spears downed his scaly steed, an the behemoth crashed onto its side, rolling on top of Gyrn. The men behind him froze. An arm punched from under the scaly blubber, and Gyrn, blood-soaked and wild-eyed, crawled from under the beast, growling, and raced on into the battle.

The men followed him.

Wave after wave of Neshing flooded the area; their vast numbers went on as far as the eye could see. Monstrous, grey-fleshed creatures lumbered in bone-covered armor, misty forms hovering just above their broad shoulders. Black saliva drooled from jagged teeth as the creatures worked themselves into a frenzy.

Massive wheels squeaked and churned, driving the catapults closer and closer to the city. Slings with huge spikes followed behind the catapults, and more riders galloped onto the field. Their numbers seemed endless, but the united forces joined at Cardoon refused to back down.

“Power of their stone, be damned!” Sooth-Malesh called. He launched a lightning attack down on the battle, but it was weak, and only fried a small amount of the Neshing.

“You can match them,” Olani said. “Reach into your soul. Your power is still there.”

Men fell screaming around them, exploding into ashes. Olani armed her crossbow, but a lance hit her right shoulder. A scream escaped her, and the crossbow toppled as she went down.

“No!” Sooth-Malesh screamed. He rushed to her, heart pounding. Magic surged through his veins. His hands ignited as he bent to heal her.

“I’m alright. I’m fine. It just grazed me.”