Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,70
carried the stone, the salvation of the entire world.
He noticed Tolan had walked away from him, too, and stood at the side of the boat looking out over the water. Pim moved slowly over to him. He looked out, watching the waves swell and break. Pim sucked in some air, tasted the salt in it, and turned.
“Tolan… I-I…”
“Yes, Pim?”
“I was a fool, and I am sorry. I had no business…”
“No, you did not have any business. Your Wivering emotions run deep, it seems.”
“It’s no excuse. I didn’t know anything about her, and I was ready to fight you over her. It was childish. It wasn’t the person I wanted to be. Nothing about me is the person I wanted to be. I can’t even run across water without…”
“Enough. You did run across the water. It matters not how. Only you could do it, and you faced the great Lich Lord, the master of the Church of the Dead. No living thing has ever set foot in the Church. You did that. You did that for your people. You did that for the world. You also saved Drith’s life from the Golem. Yes, I did see that. Your care for others is boundless, my friend.”
“Still, I hurt you, Tolan, the last person I’ve ever wanted to hurt.”
“Forget it. I already have.”
“So you forgive me?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re a great man and warrior.”
“So are you, Pim.”
He turned back to the sea. “We’re moving really fast; I can almost see the Western Isles.”
“It is that piece of the stone,” Tolan said. “I think it knows your thoughts. I think it reads your desperation, and is aiding your intentions. At this speed, our journey will be half of what it was getting here. And there is no better time. I do not know how long my home city can stand against the enemy. I fear it will not be much longer.”
“I cannot believe all this time, a piece of this thing was in Gonnish.”
“Pim, Gonnish will not look the same as you left it. Are you sure you are ready?”
“No, I am not, but it must be done. We are too close for me to give up. I will deal with it when the time comes.”
“Just lead us to the river, my friend.”
Drith watched them both from the distance. He sharpened his sword methodically.
Chapter Sixteen
Jorrel wiped the mud from his eyes with the back of his hand, thanking Thet that he could still hold his sword and tend to the perils around him. He tasted copper in his mouth. Rain battered his face, rinsing the blood from it.
The Cardoon cavalry was in ruins; they fought valiantly, but it was a losing battle. Some retreated back into the forest, but most fell to the fiery magic of the Neshing. Men and horses burned to ash, limbs littered the beach, and blood ran to the sea.
The stone was a black spot against the tempestuous sky. The mages scrambled in all directions to recover it. Arrows and lances cut down a couple of them. None had their attention on him. Jorrel pushed as hard as he could.
He leaped out with one arm into the midst of the mages. The stone came down, and Jorrel dropped his sword in favor of catching the glittering green stone. He caught it in the palm of his hand, and held it tight.
Mages snarled all around him; a fiery haze rose in his sights. He knew he would never make it back to Cardoon. If we can’t have it, no one can…
Jorrel climbed to his feet. He felt intense heat on his back as he stumbled toward the sea. Crashing waves lunged for him as he waded into the water. Hundreds of Neshing were right on his heels.
###
Cardoon’s walls were riddled with cracks. Watchtowers crumbled and fell to the battleground below. The gates buckled, fissures ran the length of them, but they held. The black spires were in flames. The fires could be seen for miles around, stealing the hope from the land. Despair spread through the villages and towns, the cities and palaces. If the most powerful city in Athora was on the brink of collapse, what chance did any of them have?
Sooth-Malesh cast wind elementals across the battlefield; whirlwinds tossed Neshing into the air, crashing them down onto jagged rocks, into their own catapults, and on top of their mages.
Soldiers, Southern warriors, Gwythroth ministers, Wivering, and Northerners made one final stand against the relentless scourge that would not