Asgoleth the Warrior - By Bill Kirkwood Page 0,16

when they saw the huge gouge that had been torn out of those stout walls.

Arindor and Micah too had been knocked off their feet and Arindor’s face was white with shock as he climbed back upright. He was covered in dust and bleeding from many minor cuts inflicted by flying splinters of rock and he cursed savagely as he beheld the damage. What hellish magic did this Demos possess? He wiped his face and shouted,

‘Archers! Bring him down.’

Bowstrings twanged in response and hundreds of deadly shafts hurtled towards Demos. A red glow surrounded him and as the arrows came in contact with it, they burst into flame and fell harmlessly to earth leaving Demos alive and unhurt by his enemies.

Again he stretched out his arm and, glorying in his power, he sent out bolt after bolt of hissing, crackling, destruction. The defenders fought back as best they could but their weapons were of no use against this evil magic. Demos was invincible, yet for all his might he still felt a twinge of impatience. If he had possession of the Heart of Ra he knew he could have wiped this fort out of existence in an instant.

Anger grew in him and he turned his attention away from the crumbling walls of the fort to the cliffs above. Under the impact of those furious bolts of energy, the cliffs began to fall. Huge boulders were torn free and fell with smashing force upon the men below. Shrieks of terror and agony filled the dust laden air mixed in with the deep grumble of falling rock and the fortress began to disappear under that terrible onslaught.

Arindor glared wildly around him at the wreckage and he knew that he and his men could not hope to defeat this black sorcerer. He gripped Micah by the arm and shouted,

‘We must fall back and warn the king. Send messengers on ahead and then sound the retreat, go!’

Micah nodded grimly and began to slide and scramble down the pile of rubble that had once been a stout wall. Arindor watched him go then he began to rally those who still lived.

‘To me Torrans,’ He cried. ‘To me!’

He heard a soldier cry out,

‘Look out my lord, above you!’

He glared upwards and saw a wall of tumbling rocks coming straight at him and he knew he was doomed, there was no way he could escape them. He was swept up by that crushing torrent and he cried out in pain as he felt his bones snap and splinter under the impact of the rocks. At last, after what seemed like an eternity of pain filled rushing movement, he crashed to a halt at the base of the wall.

There he lay, with blood frothing from his lips as he tried to breathe. Each breath was an agony but he would not give in to death easily. Then Micah was at his side, scrabbling at the rocks that pinned him down. Arindor looked up at his comrade’s grief stricken face.

‘Don’t waste your time, Micah, I’m finished and we both know it.’

He coughed weakly and blood spattered over the dusty stones. He looked at Micah and said,

‘You must save yourself now, Micah. You must try to get back to Torr ahead of these Akonite scum and try to give the king some advance warning of what has happened. Maybe the rest of the army will be able to stop this sorcerer.’

Micah looked at him in anguish.

‘We can’t surrender the fort to them, we can’t!’

Arindor coughed and more blood sprayed. His face had gone grey and death was near. He gripped Micah’s arm weakly and whispered,

‘There is no fort to surrender, now obey my last command and save yourself old friend, I wish I …..’

Arindor gave a long, bubbling gasp and lay still, his eyes now staring at realms beyond the ken of mortal man.

Micah watched him die and sat there for a moment or two with his head bowed. Another rumbling crash nearby brought him back to grim reality. There would be a time for mourning later, if he lived. He rose to his feet and saluted his fallen comrade.

‘I will do as you have commanded, my lord. I shall warn the king and I shall find a way to avenge your death. This I swear by mighty Solus.’

With a last look at his friend, he turned and began to scramble away over the rock strewn ground. Above the roar of rockslides and the screams of the dying, he could hear