Asgoleth the Warrior - By Bill Kirkwood Page 0,31

came running towards him breathlessly.

‘My lord, I found our sentries at the southern perimeter lying dead with their throats cut. No one saw or heard anything.’

Demos glared angrily at the man who trembled before him and then he turned his eye upon Amira as she spat,

‘Perhaps you are not as mighty as you think you are you dog. There are some at least who do not fear you.’

Demos snarled and raised his hand and a bolt of red light shot from the gem upon his finger. It struck Amira and she began to shriek as she was engulfed by that ghastly radiance. She writhed and twisted while Demos snarled at her suffering. Finally he lowered his hand and she gasped and lay still as the glow faded. He left her like that, sprawled naked and unconscious on the floor of the tent, and then turned back to the terrified soldier.

‘Show me.’

He hissed and followed the man into the dark.

The wound in his leg ached and his face was a mask of black fury as he looked down upon the bodies of the sentries. By the light of the flickering torches his men held aloft, he could see that the dead men’s swords were still in their scabbards and their spears lay beside the bodies as if gently lowered. Death had reached out and taken these two without any fuss and had then retreated back into the shadows from whence it had come.

He glared out over the desolate landscape but could see nothing there. The pale light of the moon only served to deepen the shadows that lay among the scattered rocks. The killer could be hiding among them even now, laughing at him and waiting his chance to strike again. He snarled at the thought and raised his hand once more.

Bolt after bolt of ruby power lashed out into the night. Rocks were smashed to rubble under the terrible impacts and the thundering roar of their destruction pealed out all around. Men covered their ears and fell to their knees as their master sent forth his rage and fury. All around the perimeter of the encampment went the bolts of deadly power until at last, drained of energy, Demos lowered his hand.

The rumbling roar of the concussions gradually faded away into silence and men climbed slowly back to their feet, shocked by the display of deadly power they had just witnessed. Surely nothing could have survived that.

Demos glared at them and cried out,

‘Hear me Akonites; these two were killed by bandits. Foolish men who thought they were as strong as we. They have learned the error of their ways and have paid the price for their foolishness.

At first light a patrol will go forth and find the bodies which will then be hung from a scaffold as a warning to others that we are all powerful in this land. The danger is past now men, you need have no more fear.’

A ragged cheer greeted his confident words and Demos smiled coldly. Then he turned to the soldier, who had found the slain sentries and said,

‘See that these two are buried before first light. I don’t want the sight of their bodies to feed the fears of the men. See to it at once.’

‘Aye my lord, it shall be done.’ the soldier replied.

Suddenly the man gasped and his eyes opened wide with shock and Demos snarled as he saw the point of an arrow which had sprouted bloodily from the front of the man’s tunic. The soldier fell, clutching at the shaft that pierced his heart and as he did so, other men cried out as more deadly shafts found their marks in flesh.

The camp became a pandemonium of running men and frightened horses. In the light of the campfires the men made easy targets and Demos, cursing himself for not having thought of it sooner, cried out,

‘Put out those fires fools! They are giving away your positions.’

Several more men died as they obeyed his commands but at last the fires were extinguished and darkness cloaked the camp. A tense silence fell as all waited to see what would happen next.

Demos, like the others, lay on his belly on the ground and stared into the menacing gloom. None there would dare to say so but they all knew that he had failed them and so too, to his intense annoyance, did Demos. Word of his failure to defeat his foes would soon spread he knew and the knowledge rankled his soul.