BlackThorn's Doom Page 0,8

heart leaped with hope.

The Morne were fighting each other. It appeared that three factions had divided the horde, the warriors whirled about one another their curved blades flashing in the dawn.

“It would appear that their general has lost his command.” King Wolhan stated. “Three of his captains are now fighting for the position.”

“Not a good way to run an army.” Prince Jerudan said with a smile.

“It works in our favor,” Gaelan commented. “They cannot attack us while they fight each other.”

“Then let us hope it is a long drawn out affair.” Jerudan said pulling off his ruined breastplate.

The fighting lasted throughout the day. As the sun set over the bloody field the combatants returned to their encampment, exhausted and many bearing grievous wounds.

“We are safe for the night at least.” Gaelan said turning away from the wall. “There is no victor among them to lead the next attack upon Timosh.”

King Wolhan shook his head. “The Morne may not come upon us, but there are the Trolls and things darker and more foul. The Minions of Sur’kar may yet make their move. With or with out the damned lizards.”

Gaelan shuddered at the thought. “Have the men stand easy at their posts. If you’re right we will know soon enough.

“Jerudan,” He called drawing the Princes attention. “How much more of that brew can your men make?”

“We have plenty of oil,” He answered. “Enough to fill every flask and bottle to be found in the keep.”

“Take as many men as you need.” Gaelan advised. “Time is short and I want to give the Trolls a reminder should they come forth again.”

Late in the evening there was a sudden flash of light and a deafening boom that shook the mountain. The warriors along the wall scrambled to their feet drawing their weapons.

“What by the gods was that?” Jerudan asked watching as a large fire burned amid the Morne host.

“That was Sur’kar eliminating the competition for his chosen commander.” King Wolhan guessed.

“We have been fortunate that he has not used that kind of power against us.” Jerudan mused. “A few blasts and he could level these walls.”

“Something has stayed their hand.” Gaelan suggested. “They learned a harsh lesson during their first attack. I believe Timosh is warded, by what I do not know, but I am grateful for it.”

King Wolhan nodded remembering the burning fog that wreaked such havoc among the Morne. “Pray that it holds.”

Chapter Three

Casius awoke with a start, glancing about he remembered that they had taken shelter in a hidden cave known only to Yoladt and the warriors of his Seh’ja. Sitting upright he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His dreams had been vivid and dire.

Unlike most dreams, these terrible visions of death and destruction remained fresh in his memory. He shuddered at the imagery of a sky turned to fire. Watching helplessly as people died by the millions, as the very ground beneath their feet wrenched open spewing fire and ash.

Mountains sank into the earth and the seas emptied out onto the land. The lush forest of the world vanished as if a great hand had simply brushed them aside.

In the dream he had stood upon a blackened hillside, high above a plain choked with the bodies of countless men. Their clothing smoking beneath suits of armor that glowed a dull fiery orange from the heat.

He looked at their contorted faces and did not recognize them. Their mouths gaped in agony on faces made horrific by fire-blackened flesh.

Their ruptured eyes gaped at him, accusing him of the crime of living. From the south survivors staggered into view and followed him westward as he forced his broken body across the desolation.

He shook his head forcing the dream aside and returning to the present. The others within the shelter were stirring and would awaken soon. All but Suni who was alert and standing near the tunnel mouth leading to the chasm that Yoladt had warned them about.

“Your sleep was troubled.” He stated flatly.

Casius stood stretching his muscles. “That would be an understatement.” He said after taking a drink of cool water. “I’m surprised I did not scream out loud, never have I dreamt of such horrors.”

“What visions disturbed your slumber?” Marcos asked sitting upright.

“I saw the world being destroyed.” Casius answered. “The sky on fire, mountains laid waste and new ones being violently thrust upward from the smoking ruins of the plain.

“The worst thing of all was the overpowering stench of burnt flesh. The bodies of thousands of warriors lay burnt and