Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,31

remarkable stone piece. It can deliver all of your people to the world they deserve”

“My eyes are sharp, Brother.”

“May the flames of our land protect you. Let as many Northerners fall as possible; the fewest who return, the better.”

“The better for us all. I will exert no aid to them. Our people come first.”

Gyrn nodded as Drith pulled away from him, leading his army to join Cardoon, the Wivering, and the Northern men.

###

Olani watched the grand army march off from her balcony. She couldn’t help but worry for them. She knew all too well the hell these monstrous invaders were capable of. The terror they unleashed upon her people and homeland had left its mark.

The warrior, Tolan, was in her thoughts; his selflessness and brave heart was admirable. She prayed to Thet on his safe return. In the distant sky, she saw the black clouds. It was a scourge on the world, a curse, a blight. Perhaps that was why she had grown ill lately, and why this illness came back each time she fought it off.

It was this threat, this evil that sickened the world. It sickened her, and had nearly destroyed her kingdom. It was time to crush it and drive its seed into the dirt.

“M’lady.” Nachin entered the room. “Your tea.” He walked onto the balcony and handed her a steaming cup with a saucer.

“Ah, my dear, constant, Nachin. What would I do without you?” Olani sipped slowly and smiled.

Nachin bowed his head. “The teahouses in Cardoon have the most amazing brews, exotic and robust. I hope you find this mixing favorable.” He left the balcony.

She watched him leave the room then took to her seat at the desk. She set the tea down and picked up a quill pen. “I must send word to my father that I am safe in Cardoon. Even as a prisoner in the Western Isles, he must know what is happening in the world.”

Chapter Eight

“Watch the enemy, watch them close,” Tolan yelled to Pim, who could barely hear him above the roar of the horse hooves. “Duck their attacks. They have many different types. There are magic-users, death machines, clubs, and axes. There may be other things that we are not aware of. They will attack from all sides. Watch the skies, and use your fleet to escape.”

Pim half-listened as the wind lashed at his face and flaxen curls. His cheeks grew cold; his heartbeat climbed; his spine stiffened. The skies around them darkened, and even though they’d only been riding a few hours, it was as if day turned to night, although dusk had yet to come.

Concern for the first time slithered through Pim. The blackness rolled in around them, nipping at them from beyond Pim’s peripheral vision. The air was unnaturally cold. Something stank in it, something decayed and cloying.

Pim’s throat went dry and he swallowed, putrid air slipping through his nostrils. He heard what he thought might be thunder growing in the distance.

Something whistled through the air, and Pim heard a crash. It boomed through the land and he mistook it for a quake, at first. A quake would have been preferable.

A huge, spiked boulder slammed into the ground, and Pim screamed. Mud sprayed the air. Horses vanished from sight, men were lost, screaming. The ground buckled, and Pim gasped as Tolan’s steed wavered, but held its balance.

Pim threw his arms around Tolan, and felt the warrior’s muscles tense. He watched sweat seep from beneath his helmet.

“This is only the beginning!” Tolan cried, drawing his father’s sword and letting out a battle cry.

Pim’s heart was in his throat, tears welled in his eyes, and he heaved… but the heaves were nothing but dry. He felt his hand slip onto the handle of his sword, but found he could not lift it. Mud slid down the side of his face. He wiped it from his left eye, and saw a four-legged reptilian beast appear with a horrifying rider on top of it, the first of hundreds.

A whistle shot through the air again. Another boulder screamed across the sky like a comet. It came down and crushed a wagon full of Wivering. Pim’s heart shattered; he realized suddenly that Jun had been in that wagon, the Wivering warrior who had given him his first sword.

Cold terror filled Pim. He trembled violently. Despair tore his bowels into pieces. He couldn’t accept the loss of his people, his friends. What had they done? Tears streamed down his cheeks, slipping into the whipping