Asgoleth the Warrior - By Bill Kirkwood Page 0,15

enemies.

The sun, the visible embodiment of the goddess Solus, rose higher into the sky and the defenders started to sweat in the heat. By mid-morning the Akonites were almost upon them and the Torrans tensed themselves for battle. Suddenly the sound of distant voices barking orders rang out and the Akonite army halted just outside the range of the Torran archers.

A deep silence fell and Arindor and Micah frowned. This was not like the Akonites. Usually they would charge straight into battle. Even odder was the fact that there was still no sign of any siege equipment. What were they up to?

They watched as the front rank of the enemy army opened up. Through the gap rode a single horseman. He wore no armour, only a simple black robe and no helmet protected the shaven skull that gleamed in the morning light. The man rode forward as though unafraid of the warriors he faced. One Torran archer, stung by the man’s obvious contempt, drew back his bow string and took aim but Arindor caught the movement out of the side of his eye and called out.

‘Hold your fire lads; let’s hear what he has to say. Maybe they want to surrender.’

A ripple of laughter spread through the defenders as they lowered their weapons. They waited then, until the man reined in his horse below them. Arindor leaned out over the battlements and demanded,

‘What do you want here, Akonite?’

The man looked up at him and replied.

‘My master, King Demos, bids me tell you that he will spare the lives of you and your men if you surrender the fortress to him. If not, he will destroy the fortress and kill you all.’

Arindor gave a snort of derision which was echoed by many of his men. He looked down at the messenger and said,

‘I have never heard of King Demos but I have no doubt that he is no better than his insane predecessor. Go back and tell your master that we decline his kind offer. We would rather die than live as Akonite slaves.’

A roar of approval from the men greeted his words and the Akonite glared up at him as he waited for the noise to subside. When it had, he spoke.

‘You do not understand what you are dealing with Torran. My master does indeed have the power to destroy this fort and all within it. You would do well to do as he asks.’

Again Arindor snorted,

‘You Akonites have tried for centuries to destroy Fort Kronus, yet still it stands firm against you. I do not think that its walls will crumble now just because your king wants them to. We have nothing further to discuss Akonite. Go back to your master while you still can.’

The man glared up at him and then without another word, he turned his horse and headed back to his own lines.

They watched him go with a mixture of anger and contempt. Micah growled,

‘Did that upstart king of theirs really expect us to surrender without a fight?’

Before Arindor could answer his keen eyes saw more movement in the enemy ranks and he called out,

‘Make ready lads, here they come!’

The Torran defenders drew back on their bowstrings, ready to send sheet after sheet of whistling death into the ranks of their enemies but no charge was forthcoming. Instead, as before, there was only a parting of the front rank as yet another black robed man rode forth. At first Arindor thought that the messenger was returning, then he saw that this man wore the golden crown of Akon upon his shaven head.

He looked at his old friend and said,

‘We are honoured today Micah. There is King Demos himself. Perhaps he intends to lead the charge against us personally.’

Micah shook his head.

‘His warriors make no move to follow him. I wonder what he is up to.’

Demos reined in his horse below them and sneered up at the defenders. Then he cried out,

‘Behold Akonites, and witness the fate of those who would defy me!’

The gemstone upon his finger began to pulse with red light as he stretched out his arm. Then from that hellish stone flew a bolt of crackling energy and all eyes watched it with superstitious fear. Here indeed was black sorcery.

The bolt hit the stone walls and there came a tremendous explosion of sound and light. Men cried out in fear and pain as they were hurled from their positions by the blast and when the dust cleared a gasp arose from a thousand throats