BlackThorn's Doom Page 0,27

Balhain, he delivered a mighty blow. Using both hands to drive his blade he swung upward catching the Balhain across the side of his helmet.

The steel rang and one of the bronze horns flew high into the air, cleanly severed at its base. The force of the blow was so powerful it lifted the warrior from the ground and hurled him back into the Morne ranks.

The men upon Timosh’s walls cheered in awe. While the Morne retreated from the King, crying out in despair. After all they had just witnessed one of their god’s most powerful servants knocked from his feet by a mere mortal.

“It is merely a blade, forged by a man and tempered by the strength of a father’s love for his son.” Wolhan mocked the warrior as he rose to his feet.

With a swing of his hammer he slew a score of the closest Morne in his rage. He moved forward with more caution now. The man before him was well past his prime and yet he had humiliated him as no man had ever done before. Perhaps he had spoken to hastily, for here was a man the likes of which he had long thought vanished from this world.

Wolhan tried to slow his breathing but he could not help but gasp. With each breath lances of fire raced through his right side. In his fall from the tower he had evidently broken several ribs, but he dared not show any weakness.

He looked to the blade in his grasp, how he longed to hold his own sword but he knew it was safer with Connell. It would be a terrible loss should the blade of Bel’Vir fall into the hands of the enemy.

The Balhain charged, the flaming war hammer sweeping through the air with frightening speed. Slowed by exhaustion and pain Wolhan could only bring his blade up to meet the blow.

There was a flash of light as the weapons met. The ear splitting roar of a thunderclap broke the silence as the steel of his blade sprayed into the air as a thousand droplets of molten metal. Morne retreated further burned by the fiery metal.

Wolhan was blinded by the flash, his arm hung useless at his side the bones shattered beyond mending. Somewhere he could hear the Balhain screeching in anger. The haft of his mighty hammer cut in twain the weapons power lost in its rending.

Wolhan fell to his knees, his broken ribs having pierced his lungs. He smiled as the shadow of death came over him. His last thoughts were for his family and with a prayer for their safety he slipped away into the life that lay beyond death.

Chapter Eight

They rested on the escarpment for a short while before scrambling down the steep slope and into the foul wood at its base. The bitter smell of burning wood lay heavily in the air. The reeking smoke stung their eyes and scratched their throats.

Hot ash fell from the sky starting new fires and stinging their flesh with small burns. Using much of their remaining water they soaked the Morne cloaks and huddled within them for protection from the burning debris.

They moved as quickly as they could forcing their way through the thick brush. At times they were forced far to the north to avoid burning fires and thick fields of gurgling mud and boiling pools of water.

For more than half the day they journeyed before coming to a rise in the land. Ahead of them stood another high ridge of black stone. It descended down from the mountains flank and stretched far into the distance before disappearing beneath the yellowed treetops.

They rested briefly in its shadow, the falling ash not reaching this far north.

Marcos sat against the stone rubbing at his temples with an expression of pain etched upon his features.

Casius handed him a water skin. “What bothers you?” He asked. He had never seen Marcos in such distress before.

Marcos drank sparingly and passed the skin back to him before replying. “Do you remember the day that we met?”

Casius nodded. “It seems like a lifetime ago.”

Marcos smiled at the remark. “I could hear the trees then.”

Casius suddenly understood. “What do these trees say?”

“Nothing,” Marcos answered sadly. “They are screaming in torment, mad raving things that have been twisted by Sur’kar’s might. Their shouts are incoherent, what sanity they possessed has long since left them. Even the youngest among them wails incoherently.”

“You have listened to this since we entered this forest?” Connell asked joining them.

Marcos